


Scribbles in the Margins: Tumblr Prompt Fills

by sachertortes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Stranger Things (TV 2016), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Modern Royalty, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-20
Updated: 2017-11-20
Packaged: 2019-02-04 20:51:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 22,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12779271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sachertortes/pseuds/sachertortes
Summary: A bunch of little fics I wrote for tumblr prompts.Different ships, AUs, and scenarios. Pairings and rating in the chapter titles :)





	1. Clint x Darcy, Awkward First Meetings, G

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Queenspuppet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Queenspuppet/gifts), [bloomsoftly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bloomsoftly/gifts), [Kali588](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kali588/gifts), [Dresupi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dresupi/gifts), [dixiedolittle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dixiedolittle/gifts), [Wheresarizona](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheresarizona/gifts), [ibelieveinturtles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibelieveinturtles/gifts), [uconnhuskiesfan_wintershockship](https://archiveofourown.org/users/uconnhuskiesfan_wintershockship/gifts), [an_elegant_chaos](https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_elegant_chaos/gifts).



Awkward Meetings: “You found me hanging by my fingertips from your window and i don’t want to tell you i was trying to rob you but idk how else to explain this and i don’t want to go to jail and also you’re kind of cute we should make out when i’m not clinging onto your window ledge for my life”, for anon

* * *

 

 

“Okay. This looks bad.”

At that, Cute Guy from Apartment 44 gave her a delighted little smile. He was leaning out of his window on his forearms to watch her with amused blue eyes.

Well.  _That_ told her she was in trouble.

One, because she might have been - just a little bit - hanging four floors off the ground, clinging to the ledge. She was surprised she lasted this long, to be honest. Thanks, pilates!

And two, since she was hanging off a window ledge four floors off the ground, this wasn’t really the time or place to be mooning over blue eyes, amused or not.

“Guess that depends on what you’re doing,” Cute Guy said. “That parkour shit or…”

Darcy, with no small amount of effort, tightened her grip on the concrete.

“My dude, I’m one gentle breeze away from becoming a red stain on this sidewalk. Can’t I tell you once you help me up?”

Cute Guy shrugged like it was the most casual thing in the world to help someone escape their imminent, messy death. He merely reached down and took her upper arms in his grip and pulled.

She landed on him, forcing a startled breath from them both, and found herself very, very close to his face. Very close. So close. She might have gulped a little.

In addition to his nice eyes, he had a slightly crooked nose, and closely cropped sandy blond hair that was very soft. She knew this because one of her hands was in his hair. Maybe she was petting him little. A smidgen, really.

She smiled, mostly because she just missed falling to her death, but also because he was smiling at her right back.

Then Darcy realized she was lying on top of a stranger and she shuffled ungracefully to get upright, brushing off the front of her jeans and sweater.

Cute Guy stood too then crossed his arms over his chest.

Okay, whoa,  _arms._

_Holy shit._

“In my line of work, I get a mite suspicious of people creeping around my place.”

“I was  _not_  creeping!” Darcy exclaimed, patting down her hair and taking in her surroundings.

His place was a bit messy. She sighted a black duffel by the door, as well as several pairs of worn, black combat boots. An armchair, so old that it had stuffing poking out of it, had the fanciest, tech-iest looking bow she’d ever seen leaning against it.

A bow.

And next to that a quiver of arrows.

His casual response to heroics.

“Ohh, shit. You’re Eagleman!”

He sputtered, face flushing.

“You’re an Avenger!” Darcy went on, slightly panicked now. “You’re an Avenger and I’m gonna be arrested! Listen I heard about that Raft thing,” she pointed a finger at him as menacingly as she could, and he backed up a step. Ha! “I’m telling you, I’m an American citizen and you have  _no right_ to put me in that thing! I’ll get a lawyer! A  _good_  lawyer. No, hold up, I’ll get a  _Thor_  – “

“Whoa whoa. Okay first of all, it’s Hawkeye.”

“Oh.” Darcy paused. “Sorry, right. Hawk Guy.”

“No, Hawk – Okay, you know what? Second of all, I don’t think you’ve even managed to actually take anything so…”

“So I’m not gonna be arrested?”

He smirked before picking up a large to-go coffee cup and taking a sip. “You’re not a very good thief.”

“Hey! I tried! I didn’t know you were coming home this morning so I had to hide!”

“Out the window?”

“I was trying to get to the fire escape. And your closet was full of crap! You ever think about cleaning up a bit around here? Jeez.” She shoved over a pile of wrinkled t-shirts and sat on the arm of his couch.

“Guess I’m not home enough.”

“See?! See?! You said it yourself. I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“What exactly were you trying to rob me of?”

“Uhhh.” Darcy glanced around shiftily and bit her lip. “Coffee.”

“Coffee?!”

“I ran out and whenever I see you out on your balcony, you’re drinking coffee. So I came to borrow some. I was going to replace it! I promise!”

“You watch me out on the balcony?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, dude. And I know you’ve seen me too. One time you even gave me this like, dorky little salute with your mug.”

He tilted his head and considered her for a second. “You’re Apartment 46!”

“Yes, hello, this is the worst meeting ever and again I’m sorry.”

“…And you know Thor?”

“Yeah, I’m Darcy Lewis. I work with Jane Foster.”

“I’m Clint Barton and now I’m  _certain_  we’ve met before. Sort of.”

She waited for him to continue.

“In New Mexico? I was around when Thor…fell.”

“Oh, god! You took Jane’s research!”

“We gave it back.”

Darcy gave a skeptical hum. “Small world, I guess.” She looked longingly at his cup, swirls of steam coming off it. “So…”

“So…” Clint trailed off in an almost bashful tone. “Do you maybe want breakfast with that coffee? The diner three blocks over makes some mean pancakes.” He took a gulp of his coffee and his eyes swept over her briefly.

Yep, there was that swirly, dipping feeling in her stomach again.

And she wasn’t even hanging off a ledge this time.

Nope, this one was all Clint Barton and his warm grin and his nice arms.

Darcy grinned back. “Sure, Hawk Guy. I’ll let ya buy me pancakes.”

“Good. Okay.” Clint’s loopy smile probably matched hers when he shrugged on his jacket and pocketed his keys.

“With chocolate chips?” she asked hopefully, following him to the front door.

“Alright.”

“And whipped cream,” she added, trailing a hand down his bicep.

“Okay.” He sounded a bit shaky and turned to look at her in the doorway.

“And then we can come back to your place and make out a little?”

“…Shit. I mean – Yes. Absolutely, that.”

“Awesome,” Darcy said and stood on her toes to give him a peck on his cheek. “And stop looking at me like that, coffee first!”


	2. Darcy x Steve Harrington ("Stranger Things"), Ridiculous Sentences, T

Ridiculous first sentences, “that is the tenth demon summoning this week holy shit!” (Spoilers for Season 2 of Stranger Things).

* * *

 

 

Steve Harrington’s Five Rules of Babysitting

 

1\. SAFETY FIRST

 

Fine. Okay.

So he knows he shouldn’t be one to talk about safety when he let a bunch of kids  _drive_ then go exploring in what was basically a creepy tunnel in a field, but  _in his defense_  he’d been knocked out by some dickweed with a shitty mullet and was sort of loopy at the time.

But.

Safety first. Always.

Keep all doors and windows locked at all times.

Don’t let the kids choke on anything because maybe you don’t know CPR and you only know the Heimlich from the diagram you’ve glanced at while waiting for your order at the Dairy Queen.

Know where your weapons are.

(Example:

There’s a rifle is in the closet.

The box of bullets is on the highest shelf in the kitchen.

The kitchen drawer is full of knives.

Eleven is playing Connect Four with Max.

And…

“Lucas!” Steve bellows over his shoulder. “DON’T TOUCH THE DAMN BAT.”)

 

2\. KEEP THE LITTLE SHITS OCCUPIED

 

Slightly related to Rule Number One, because if they’re playing their dorky boardgames, they aren’t out on their bikes trying to find interdimensional slugs to keep as pets.

When they get tired of boardgames (or when everyone gets tired of Max and Mike screaming at each other about whether a “Zoomer” is a thing), pop a movie into the VCR.

(Suggested Movies -

 _Ghostbusters_  (naturally)

 _Raiders of the Lost Ark_  (but tell the kids to cover their eyes when Indy does)

_Star Wars_

 

Movies That Do Not Go Over Well -

_Alien_

_Firestarter_

_Howard the Duck_ )

 

3\. A BALANCED MEAL IS IMPORTANT

 

“Listen, kid, you gotta eat something other than Eggos. You’ll get scoliosis.”

“Scurvy,” supplies Will.

“Whatever. Scurvy.”

 

4\. KNOW YOUR EMERGENCY CONTACTS

 

In an emergency CALL:

 ~~911~~   

 ~~The Parents~~   

Joyce Byers.

Seriously, one time he saw Joyce look at some kid who called Will “Zombie Boy” with such cold, murderous rage that the kid  _apologized_ and ran away.

Joyce doesn’t fuck around.

Call.  Joyce.

 

5\. NO VISITORS/OUTSIDERS

 

Listen. They’ve all seen some shit. They’ve been through a lot.

Like,  _a lot_.

So their little circle is now them, Ms. Byers, the Sheriff and the doc from the lab. No one else could possibly know the shit they’ve been through. Hell, no one else would possibly believe them and it’s just easier to stick to their own small band of weirdos.

Makes it easier to keep an eye on them, too.

Outsiders are suspicious. After what Nancy and Jonathan told him, outsiders could be wearing wires and the next thing you know you’re held against you will in (another) government facility wondering if you’ll ever see daylight again.

So when there’s a knock at the door and Steve opens it to find a short brunette girl - a  _stranger_ , he’s understandably suspicious. She is not coming inside.

No way.

“ _You’re_ the babysitter?!” she laughs, eyebrows hiked up and hand on one hip.

Yeah. She is not allowed inside.

No matter how cute. No matter how shiny her cherry red lip gloss. She’s not coming in.

“Darcy!!” exclaims Dustin from behind him. “This is my cousin Darcy. Come in!”

Well, shit.

“Kiddo, your mom wants you home soon. And thanks for letting me in  _finally._ ” Darcy turns to him and rolls her eyes. “I thought you were gonna make me stand out there with the creepy noises forever.”

Fuck. His heart is doing some bizarre thing where it sinks and speeds up at the same time.

He should’ve known it wasn’t over, shit like this is never over.

Then just as suddenly he’s angry and tired.

Can he  _please_ make it to graduation without ending up in a body bag? Is that too much to ask?

“This is like, the tenth demon summoning this week holy shit,” Darcy declares, shrugging off her acid wash jean jacket and shoving it at him. She goes over to the couch, where Lucas hesitantly slides over a bit to let her sit.

He blinks, still holding the jacket. (It smells faintly like Love’s Baby Soft). “Wait. What?”

“…What.”

“You said demon summoning.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You thought those were  _demons_?”

Lucas stops the movie. Everyone waits with bated breath.

“Well, yeah. At first, I called Fish and Wildlife and  _they_ said they were coyotes, but like, I actually saw one and have you ever seen a coyote with that many teeth? So. Small town plus weirdo animals plus that Department of Energy thing equals demon summoning. I saw it on Phil Donahue. Totally demons. Right?” She pushes a lock of hair behind her ear and eyes him expectantly.

He throws her jacket over an arm chair then motions for her to follow him to the kitchen. “Not..not quite. This is gonna sound crazy but you thought those were demons so…”

When Darcy promises not to laugh at them and call up the loony bin, Steve takes a deep breath and runs his hands through his hair. “Okay, so I guess it started with – “

Dustin walks in clutching a bag of Cheetos. “Ohh! Steve are you tellin’ her about the demodogs? Hey, everyone, we’re tellin’ Darce about the demodogs!!”

“Jesus Christ.”

 

STEVE HARRINGTON’S UNOFFICIAL SIXTH RULE OF BABYSITTING: TEAMWORK

 

Two adults (and he and Darcy  _are_  adults, damn it, they’re the only ones who can legally drive) are better than one, especially to corral six kids.

Ms. Byers and the Sheriff are on a capital D Date even if they insisted they weren’t. (Why go to Hawkins’ one Italian restaurant with actual table cloths if you  _weren’t_  on a date?).

And with a tiny pang in his chest that had really been getting tinier by the day, he notes that Nancy and Jonathan are hanging out together, too. (Probably riding around town together, listening to the sad wailings of British guys in black overcoats.)

Teamwork makes it easier to deal with the noises outside the house. The noises that are getting closer, softly clicking,  _chittering._

Mike and Lucas slide the sofa so it blocks the front door, and everyone else pulls the blinds down.

“This is my life now,” Darcy says, in disbelief and resignation as she pulls out the box of bullets from the kitchen cabinet.

She slams it on the counter, and the old toaster rattles a little.

“I’m sorry,” says Steve. “But I’ve been through this before. We’ll get through it again,” he promises.

Darcy takes a deep breath.

“Listen, I can’t even believe I’m doing this, but this is a very stressful situation,” she murmurs. She turns to him and presses her body along his front while the Byers’ plastic laminate counters dig into his back.

And oh wait, he can  _feel_ it, that… _electricity_ , it’s like the air around is humming, colors sharper.

“I’m gonna need you to do a Thing, okay? Because you’re cute and y’know your hair is kinda cool – “

“Thanks,” he says, unable to help his smile. The hair. Always gets ‘em.

“Shut up, Steve, and just kiss me!” she hisses at him, pulling him towards her with two fistfuls of his Members Only jacket.

“Okay, yeah,” he manages to get out before he slants his mouth over hers and his entire world is alight with fireworks

He jolts when their lips finally meet. It’s clumsy at first, their teeth bumping together. But Darcy’s lips are silky and slippery with gloss. Her tongue slides over his insistently and she tastes faintly like grape BubbleYum. His hands are sliding just a little bit under that soft, pink sweater of hers and this is usually the part where the girl tells him to cool it but she doesn’t -  _her_  hands are tangled in his hair, nails grazing his scalp.

He cups her jaw, and he feels like he’ll vibrate right out of his own skin.

She pulls away with a smack. “Wow. Good kissing, babysitter.”

Her breath comes in quick pants when it fans across his face and when he looks at her she gives him a tiny lopsided smile.

“Seriously?! _”_ a voice exclaims from behind them, high and outraged. “ _My cousin??!”_

Darcy rolls her eyes and gently pushes Steve away. “What is it, Dustin.”

Dustin turns to him with a narrowed gaze. “You’ve got,” he gestures his hand vaguely over his mouth, “like all over you, man.” He shakes his head, mildly disgusted.

Steve runs the back of his hand over his lips and says, “Where are we on those-”

Something outside screeches warningly and the hairs on his arms stand on end. He grips his baseball bat tighter. He looks to his right and there’s a hard glint in Darcy’s eyes as she loads the rifle.

“Ready?” he asks her.

She turns to him and gives him a sharp nod. “Ready.”

They go to join everyone in the living room.

They wait.

They wait some more, with only the harsh puffs of their panicked breathing and the sound of the crickets outside.

“Are they…coming?” Darcy asks, shakily, after five agonizing minutes have passed.

“They’ll be here,” he says.

“They’re not…they’re not coming,” El says softly from behind him. Her voice is doing that slightly scary thing where it sounds too high and too far away.

“They went back?” Lucas asks.

“No. She means it’s not them,” Will says haltingly, scrunching his face.

“Well, what is it?!” demands Max, face flushed with annoyance. She begins striding to the door.

“Oh no you don’t.” Steve reaches down and yanks her back by her jacket collar.

“I’ll go,” offers Darcy and before he can forbid  _that_ , she’s crouching by the window and looking outside.

“Shit!” Darcy screams, and he’s over by her side in a second, his bat in position. But when he looks at her, she’s…smiling?

She pulls the curtain aside for him.

On the front porch, one of the tiny ragged things  _hisses_ at him, glaring at him with two shiny black eyes and he bursts out laughing, pure relief washing over him

“Possums!” he calls over his shoulder. “Just possums!”

Everyone groans.

He’s never been so glad to see those oversized rats ever in his life.

Afterwards, when the little assholes have mostly finished ragging on him for making them barricade the house against rodents, they put the couch back and sag onto various surfaces in the living room in front of the TV.

“God, that sucked. I need coffee,” Darcy grumps while she stomps to the kitchen. “And food.” She puts her hair up in a messy ponytail and begins rifling through the Byers’ pantry, setting a bag of flour and sugar on the counter.

She bends over to rummage through the fridge next and wow. God bless Jordache.

When she turns she’s got a carton of milk in one hand and is holding a box of eggs with the other.

“You guys like waffles, don’t you?”

El, by his side, is smiling up at him hopefully.

He sighs tiredly, makes his way to Darcy and takes the eggs from her hands. “Yeah. I’ll help.”

See?

Teamwork.


	3. Brock x Darcy, Nobility themed, T

Nobility themed: “we’ve been engaged to be married since we were three but this is the first time we’ve met and your portraits really don’t do you justice”, Modern Royalty AU

* * *

 

 

“She could have a huge fuckin’ wart in the middle of her face,” Brock said, glaring at the portrait that had been hanging in the sitting room for the past two years.

“Hell, she could have several huge fuckin’ warts in the middle of her face,” added Jack. He squinted at the portrait while taking a sip of the Rumlows’ incredibly expensive scotch.

A round, pale face stared back at them with large, luminous blue eyes. The Lady Darcy Lewis wore a deep purple silk gown that showed off her bare shoulders and the long column of her neck. Her dark brown hair was braided into an elaborate style that was adorned with tiny gold vines and amethysts.

But Brock’s favorite part of the portrait, not that he’d ever tell anyone, was her lips. Her soft-looking pink lips that made him think of doing things that would’ve gotten him kicked out of any number of posh Swiss boarding schools. (He should know, he’d hopped around them often enough.)

“She could have bad teeth,” Brock continued casually.

“Bad teeth? Maybe you’ll be lucky if she has any at all.”

“Aw, what the shit.” Brock winced.

Jack laughed raucously. “Seriously, man, what’ll you do if she looks nothin’ like this portrait? You gonna disappear the painter or somethin’, that poor bastard?”

“Nah. That’s that artsy fartsy artistic license. You can’t fault him for that. You should feel sorry for me. A goddamned arranged marriage, can you believe this shit?”

Jack clapped a comforting hand onto Brock’s shoulder.

“Well I guess it’s not every day your parents give you Rumlow Hall and a girl.”

Rumlow rolled his eyes. “They’re not  _giving_ me anything but a headache. Our families have known each other for generations. They think it’s only natural that we should…make our alliance official.”

“Ah, romance the old money way. Her bling looks like it’s old money too,” observed Jack. He snickered. “Hey, notice how she’s not wearing any silver? What if she’s a werewolf? Or some kinda bearded lady?”

“I’ll run away to the Amazon. Live in the jungle.”

“Well, if I were I bearded lady, you wouldn’t know. I could just shave it off, right?” came a sarcastic voice from behind them.

Brock turned and the woman in the portrait stared back him.

It was then that he realized that the portraitist was wrong. So wrong.

Lady Darcy was even more beautiful in person. Instead of a gown, she was wearing tan breeches that clung to some delectable thighs and tall, slightly muddy, riding boots. She had her herringbone jacket draped over her arm and there was a spark of mischievousness in her eyes that the artist hadn’t managed to capture.

Jesus, was she holding a riding crop?!

A sly smile spread across Brock’s face.

“Oh! Your mother wanted to show off your prized horses, so we went riding for a bit. Hope that was okay.”

“Yes.” Brock cleared his throat. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to.”

“Darcy Lewis. I’m your future bride, I guess.” She laughed and held out her hand.

Brock took her offered hand in his and squeezed it once.

“Brock Rumlow. Nice to finally meet you, Lady Darcy.”

Brock had never thought of himself as a husband. Married, yes, because that was expected of him, but never a  _husband._ His future bride’s face, until recently, had been a formless thing when he thought about it. He gave more thought as to how he was going to keep his various dalliances discreet during the marriage.

But now he smiled when he thought of being a husband. Because Lady Darcy was to be his wife.

Darcy smiled back at him, humor in her eyes, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking. He gazed back, suddenly thinking about all the various ways he would fulfill his “husbandly duties”.

In the quiet, Jack coughed expectantly.

When Brock still did nothing, his friend let out an exasperated breath.

“Hi, I’m Jack Rollins,” Jack said, extending his hand. Darcy shook it politely. “I’ll just be over –“ Jack gestured to the bookcase by the window and when Darcy nodded, he left.

“You know, you don’t come off nearly as annoying as the papers would have me believe,” Darcy lilted at him, once they were alone.

“Of course I’m not. I have…interests other than parties and cars.”

“Oh, you do, do you?”

“Yes. I even read your thesis.”

At this Darcy finally seemed surprised. “Wait. Really? You read my thesis?”

“Certainly.”

He didn’t tell her that it took him five tries to finish and understand it. He definitely didn’t tell her that after one night of particularly hard partying, he was nursing a hangover when his mother shoved some papers in front of him. They were her thesis and an article in the Times praising her and Dr. Jane Foster’s research.

“Lady Darcy is certainly making herself worthy of our title. See that you’re worthy of  _her_ , will you?”

He laid in bed all day feeling like a shit. Well, he always knew he was a shit but something in his mother’s tone and his father’s stare made him  _ashamed_  of being a shit. Suddenly, all of his “antics” weren’t fun and exciting, they were  _embarrassing._

The next day he cancelled his trip to Dubai and told the model he occasionally slept with that he wasn’t going to be able to make their date. He flushed his “recreational medications” down the toilet and began avoiding the worst of his hangers on.

It took a few months to end some of his more shady business ventures, but he did it.

And although he cleaned up his act (the Times no longer referred to him as the “Famous Dissolute Rake”) he admittedly felt resentment towards his betrothed. Who was she anyways to make him upend his life like this?

But apparently, she was Lady Darcy Lewis, who eschewed crashing expensive cars and getting high in the back of exclusive nightclubs for a chance to intern with renowned American astrophysicist, Dr. Jane Foster. Darcy Lewis who found a puppy in the street, kept it, then opened several animal shelters. Darcy Lewis who had an Instagram account specifically for all the costumes she made for comic conventions.

“Well. Look at that. I’m very relieved you’re not a stereotypical upper crust bad boy,” she teased in a voice that made the hairs on the back of neck prickle pleasantly.

He took a step closer to her. Closer than what would be considered polite, actually. But she didn’t seem to mind. She only looked at him with those big eyes tantalizingly.

“Believe me, sweetheart, I can still be a bad guy if you want it. If you need it. All you gotta do is ask nicely.”

“Well, Earl Rumlow, can I let you in on my super secret request?”

He nodded. She made him feel generous.

She leaned into his space, filling his senses with the faint scent of vanilla and clean woman.

“Rubies,” breathed Darcy into his ear, sending a shiver through him.

“What?”

“I like rubies best. For the engagement ring. The setting can be silver, if you like. Promise I’m not a werewolf.” She tapped the riding crop lightly against his leg, three times. “And your parents are expecting us for tea in the solarium in twenty minutes. Don’t be late,  _sweetheart_.”

She didn’t wait for his reply, but sauntered out the door, her backside swaying enticingly.

He and Jack  _both_  watched her leave.

Jack came over from where he was pretending to leaf through a book.

“Still running away to the Amazon?” Jack asked, looping an arm over his shoulder.

“Shut up and call the Royal Jeweler, would you?”


	4. Clint x Darcy x Bucky, Mythical Creatures, M

 Mythical Creatures: “i keep getting into arguments with one of my classmates about things because they keep saying i’m wrong so i finally scream, ‘how would you know?!?’ and they’re like, ‘because i was THERE!’ and that’s how we all find out that there is a centuries-old vampire taking our British history class”

Warnings for: descriptions of blood and blood drinking

* * *

 

 

The second Clint notices her, he can feel it. His boyfriend sits up just a little straighter, he stops breathing for a second. Clint was in the middle of telling him about “this sweet new arrow” he’d just customized for himself, but he trails off in the middle of his sentence.

He can’t blame him really.

She’s hard to miss when she walks into their British Art History class, with her long, dark hair, pale skin, and lovely red lips.

Their class is a night class, and every night she’s got a huge travel mug of coffee in her hand.

The professor calls on her often, and her answers are often correct and pretty insightful.

They learn her name.

Darcy.

 

“You think she’s cute,” Clint teases him one night when they stop by a burger place after class.

He sips at his soda. “Hell yeah.” Then, tentatively, “Don’t you?”

“Yeah, man. She’s fuckin’ gorgeous. And smart as hell. Remember what she said about Greek Mythology and that Waterhouse guy?”

“Well now I know you think she’s cute. You were actually listenin’ tonight.”

Clint chucks a French fry at him, which he picks from his shirt and chews on happily.

He shrugs. “S’okay, Clint. I like her too.”

Clint smirks at him from across the formica table.

One Wednesday night, she walks in and her lips are again a deep shade of red. Almost maroon. Her hair is glossy under the fluorescent light. Clint reaches over to place a hand on his knee.

She’s wearing yoga pants.

 

He’s got Clint pinned to their couch, shirtless and skin soft and warm.

He palms the blond over the front of his jeans, gently grasping at his hard cock through the fabric. Clint gasps and then retaliates by sucking a mark onto the side of his neck.

“You thinkin’ about her?” Clint growls into his ear. “Thinkin’ about what it’d be like to have her with us? Underneath us?”

“I am now,” he rasps. He nimbly undoes the button to Clint’s pants. “I wanna see her suck you off.”

“Fuck.”

“She won’t know how you like it,” he murmurs into the shell of Clint’s ear and smiles when he feels fingers press into his biceps. “So I’ll have to show her. Maybe we can take turns on ya.”

“Fucking hell,” Clint whimpers and presses himself closer.

There’s not much talking after that.

 

On Friday night, Darcy is already at her seat when they walk in. He flushes, slightly ashamed of how he and Clint used her image the last time they fucked. He looks over to Clint, and he’s seems a little pink too.

Christ, they’re pathetic.

The lecture begins and they’re doing their usual thing of trying to pay attention but not really.

“You there,” the professor says, pointing straight at Clint. “You in the purple sweatshirt.”

Clint’s head jerks up then he looks behind him. Bucky tries to hide his laughter. As if anyone else in this class wears a purple sweatshirt.

“Why do you think so many members of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood painted their muses as mythical creatures? Nymphs, goddesses, witches?”

Clint shrugs. “Maybe for accuracy? Maybe they  _were_  witches,” he says, and their classmates titter.

“They were  _not_  witches,” Darcy declares, turning back to glare at them from her seat in the front.

“Well, how would you know?” Clint asks. “You think a lady is just gonna admit that she’s a witch?”

Bucky groans.

“No, but – ”

“Then they could be witches.”

“They’re  _not!”_

“’Cause you knew them personally, right?” Clint snickers.

“I know because I was there!” Darcy yells back.

The class is silent.

Darcy’s mouth is open in shock. She blinks rapidly for a bit then hurriedly begins shoving her papers and books into her bag. She slams the door shut behind her when she leaves.

Even the professor looks shocked.

The class is uncomfortably silent for a bit until someone makes a comment about “stress during midterms” and everyone chuckles, relieved.

“C’mon, we’re apologizin’,” he whispers to Clint as he gathers up their things to go after her. Clint nods. They sit in the back, so they manage to sneak out just fine.

They find her easily in the parking lot. She’s leaning against the hood of her car while sipping from her tumbler.

She rolls her eyes when she spots them.

“What do you want?” she asks, icily.

“To apologize,” Clint answers, fiddling with the strap of his bag. “I don’t know what I was thinking, I shouldn’t have…needled you like that.”

“He thinks he’s funny sometimes,” Bucky supplies giving her what he hopes is a winsome smile. “But he’s not.” Clint elbows him. “What? Sometimes you’re not that funny!”

Darcy smiles a little looking down at the shoes.

“I’m so sorry. I was an ass today and it won’t happen again,” Clint says, reaching for her coffee. “Let us buy you a coffee? Or, wait, if you don’t want coffee, maybe hot chocolate or something.”

“It’s fine,” Darcy insists, trying to get the plastic tumbler away from Clint.

“No, really please let us –”

“ _Seriously_  –”

And then Darcy yanks it back from Clint too hard and the container falls to the ground with a thump.

They all stare at the upended tumbler and thanks to the parking lot lights, its dark red contents spilling thickly onto the asphalt.

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up with his eyes, for his brain to form the word, ‘blood’.

“So…I might have meant it when I said that I was there. In 19th century England. I’m kind of a vampire?” she said.

“Kind of?” Bucky says.

“No. Absolutely. I’m absolutely a vampire.” Darcy sighs, tiredly. Bucky tries not to notice the way she’s still staring hungrily at the spilled…stuff…on the ground. Like she’d crouch down and lick it up if she weren’t in front of company.

“What are you gonna do now? Laugh at me? Refer me to university counseling? Try and drive a stake through my heart?”

“Nothing,” Clint says, with a finality in the word.

“…Nothing?” Darcy asks.

“Yeah. You’re a vampire. We’re human. It’s…fine,” Bucky finds himself saying. He means it.

Darcy blinks at the both of them, a pleased look forming on her face. “Okay.”

 

 

Clint tilts his head, leans across their table at the campus Starbucks to whisper, “Where do you get your…blood?”

“I have an arrangement with someone. A volunteer,” Darcy answers, picking at but not eating her slice of lemon pound cake. “No worries, my dude, everything’s 100% consensual.”

 

 

“Mirrors,” Bucky asks, while flipping through the pages of the textbook they’re supposed to be studying from. He’s curious and also kind of doesn’t want to be caught off guard when they have to walk past one or something.

“No reflection in mirrors, but I show up in pictures and stuff. I don’t know, it’s weird,” Darcy answers. “And Clint, don’t write in that book, it’s mine!”

 

 

“What about sunlight?” Clint asks. Darcy’s at their place again, scrolling through their Netflix. She puts a hell of a lot of cooking competitions onto their Watch List for someone who can’t even eat.

“Hm. Not a fan. Hence all the night classes.”

 

 

“Dirt,” Bucky says simply one evening when they’re driving.

“Wow. That’s kind of an obscure one. You got that from Bram Stoker, right?”

“Uhh. Not really,” Bucky confesses. “The 90s movie. With Winona Ryder.”

“Nice choice,” Darcy laughs. “But I don’t need to sleep in my native soil. Sounds like a pain in the ass, actually.”

“I thought you were gonna say pain in the neck,” Clint says from the backseat.

Bucky and Darcy groan in unison. “Bucky, stop this car, we’re making him walk home.“

 

 

“Soooo…” Clint trails off.

“Yeah?”

“Can you or can you not turn into a swarm of bats and fly away?”

“Oh my god.”

“So…yes?” Bucky asks.

“No!”

 

 

“I…kind of have a problem,” Darcy says when they open their apartment door for her. She looks even paler than usual, ashen even, and she seems unsteady on her feet. They usher her inside and she slumps onto their couch before continuing. “The ‘volunteer’ I told you about? Ian moved back to England like two weeks ago. I’ve been holding off and drinking animal blood since then but…I’m not feeling great, to be honest.”

She looks at them and then away, ashamed. “I know we haven’t known each other too long and I never would even presume to ask otherwise –”

“You can drink from me,” Clint says quickly, and Bucky wants nothing more than to smack him upside the head. They were trying to work out a way to ask Darcy to go with them first, to see if she even wanted to, if she even  _liked_ humans. This – this is way too much, too soon.

“Clint,” he rumbles, lowly.

“What? Look at her, she doesn’t look good. No offense, sweetheart.”

Darcy shrugs one shoulder.

Bucky bites the inside of his cheek. “Alright. If you want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You’ll need to eat after,” Darcy says, perking up a little. “Lots of iron, vitamins, that sort of thing. For the blood loss.”

Bucky’s on his phone in seconds, googling madly and then mentally putting together something from the meager contents of their kitchen.

“I just want to reassure you that um,” Darcy fiddles with the hair tie on her wrist. “Some of the more traditional vampires, especially the older generations intertwine the whole sex and blood drinking thing. Us younger ones,” she continues as if she wasn’t alive when horse-drawn carriages were a thing. “We don’t really do that anymore, so you don’t have to worry about…” she trails off, sliding a significant glance between he and Clint.

Before he can even formulate a response, (his brain is still stuck on the imagery of  _sex_ and  _blood_  and  _Darcy),_  Clint beats him to it.

“That would be alright, though, if you wanted.”

She looks at them, confused. “If I wanted what?”

“Y’know, um. The sex thing. And…more.”

Darcy blinks owlishly. “Oh! But I thought that you two, aren’t you…?”

“Yes, we are,” Clint explains. “But, uh…” He’s getting pink and he rubs a hand over the back of his neck.

“We’d been planning on askin’ you out,” Bucky finishes for him. “Both of us.”

“Both of you,” Darcy repeats.

“Yeah. But I mean, if you don’t want that –“

“No! Oh my god, I mean yes. Yes, I’d want that too!” Darcy shyly looks up at them, smiling a little and he can’t help but grin back, relief shimmering through him.

And with that, they get started. He’s nervous like he was for his first date with Clint.

“Okay, so, I’m going to drink from your neck. It only hurts for like, a second then you should start feeling…really nice. Kind of woozy and sleepy and happy.” She pauses and waits for Clint to acknowledge that he understands. Clint nods and she continues. “Afterwards, I’ll lick your wound to close it and then you should have a little something to eat and drink. Okay?”

Clint nods again.

“Alright. Umm, how about you sit here in front of the sofa. That way I’m behind you and I’m at the right height.” Darcy begins to tie her hair back.

“Should I stay?” Bucky asks, not sure if he’ll be breaching some sort of etiquette.

“Of course. You can stay if you want. Especially if all three of us are – if we’re going to be…”

“Oh.” Bucky smiles gently. “Then I’m staying.”

Then she leans down to Clint’s neck, and places her mouth over him and begins to drink.

Clint is silent and he begins to worry that he’s hiding his pain until Clint  _moans._  It’s the same exact one he draws from him when he’s got his hand wrapped around his cock.

Darcy looks up and stares at him, through her lashes. He’d never seen her like this before, eyes bright and alert, with her cheeks flushed. He supposes it makes sense that she always seemed only pale and placid - she  _is_ a vampire. Her pretty lips are still attached to the curve of his boyfriend’s neck where he can see the slight throbbing of a vein as it pumps blood into Darcy’s mouth.

He doesn’t feel jealous. On the contrary, a soft groan is torn from him when he takes in the sight of Clint baring his throat, of Darcy’s slim fingers threaded into his boyfriend’s hair to hold him still.

When she’s done, when she’s laving over Clint’s neck to close the wounds, he’s not surprised to find that his dick is half-hard.

Still, he goes into the kitchen to prepare a glass of orange juice and a peanut butter and banana sandwich.

Clint manages to drink and eat without issue, albeit just a little slowly.

Afterwards, they position Clint into a comfortable position on the couch. Darcy even pulls a blanket over him.

“Hmmmmmm,” Clint says, smiling as his eyes drift shut. “S’real good. Thanks, Darcy. Thanks, Buck.”

Darcy giggles, brushes spiky blond hair off of his forehead and says, “Clint will be out of commission for an hour or two at least.”

She walks over to him, then crowds him until he’s on back on the armchair. There’s a carnal gleam in her eyes when she sits on his lap and straddles him.

He swallows against a dry throat. A drop of red is at the corner of her lips. He reaches up with his thumb and pushes it back into her mouth. Her tongue is still slightly warm from the blood and he can’t hold back a noise from the back of his throat when she sucks on finger so hard her cheeks hollow.

She releases his thumb, and murmurs, “Any ideas for what we can do while we wait?”


	5. Bucky x Darcy, Nobility Themed, T

Nobility themed, “Your country’s trying to take over/annex my country and you’re making it difficult to hate you because you’re so nice and attractive stop it”, Royalty/Fantasy AU

* * *

 

 

“So he’s arrived today at court. At the palace.  _My_ palace,” Darcy said, turning to her Advisor.

“Yes, Your Majesty,” he replied.

Darcy frowned. She heard many things of this Prince James Buchanan Barnes and she was mostly certain none of it could be true.

Just the other morning, she’d hid in the corridor to listen to the maids talking about him as they were dusting in the music room.

“I heard he and his brother led their army over the Northern Pass  _during a blizzard_  and did not lose one man,” Ingrid said breathlessly.

“I heard he fought off a dozen men with his bare hands and  _won._ And that a wizard gave him an enchanted arm of silver and his brother hair of gold,” Emmaline added in an awed whisper. “…They – they call him the Winter Soldier.” Then in a softer, dreamier voice, “They say he’s as tall and strong as a bear and his eyes are like glaciers.”

“Why, Emmaline! You naughty girl!” teased Ingrid.

“Oh, hush!” giggled Emmaline and Darcy left after that, leaving the girls to the rest of their work.

In the receiving room, Darcy now waited for that fearsome sounding man. He’d probably arrive cloaked in bearskin and covered in dirt or something, the barbarian.

“Well. There’s nothing to be done about that, I suppose.” She stood in a rustle of silk and faille then glided her hands over the front of her gown, over tiny pearls and embroidered roses.

“We’ll just have to throw him in the dungeon,” she continued breezily, flipping her curls over her shoulder. “The dark one. With all the spiders.”

Coulson merely raised one brow and intoned drily, “You know we don’t have dungeons.”

“Then I’ll build one! I’m the Queen! At least for a little while longer. I can definitely build a dungeon where some snivelly little Prince from an invading country can rot forever in the dark! Write that down, Coulson – a dark dungeon!”

“Might I remind you that  _you_ signed the Treaty and invited him here? And that the country needs the force of his armies?”

But Darcy was on a roll and elected to ignore Coulson’s logic. She tapped a finger to her chin. “Oooh! The Rack! Let’s bring back the Rack!”

“No, Your Majesty.”

“Not even a little one? Just for his legs or something?”

Coulson let out one long-suffering sigh.

If it was meant to chastise her, Darcy wouldn’t know. She’d heard that sigh for most of her life and was immune to it by now.

It was actually Sigh #21. Not as serious as Sigh #1 (The “You Must Stop That This Instant You Are the Leader of Your Country” Sigh) nor as lighthearted as Sigh #32 (The “You Amuse Me, But I’ll Never Say It” Sigh).

“Please,  _please,_ be civil. The welcome dinner is tonight – “

“Seat him between the Baroness Mowbray and the Duke Thornton. Perhaps he’ll flee the country out of sheer boredom.”

“And must I remind you that he has large armies and gold which our country needs at the moment?”

Darcy glared at him, then after realizing that she wasn’t going get any reaction other than his usual placidness, turned to glare at the dour portrait of her great-great-grandmother.

“Yes,” she ground out. “That’s the second time in five minutes you’ve mentioned that. He  _deserves_ the spidery dungeons. Who does he think he is?! We’ve always been neutral and we haven’t needed his stupid army or his stinking gold or his dumb – “

“Your Majesty –“

“Stupid face –“

“Your Majesty –“

“Or his so-called magical –“

“ _DARCY.”_

“Yes, Coulson,” Darcy sighed, turning. “Oh!”

Standing there slightly behind Coulson was a man who could not be anyone other than the Prince.

Prince James was tall, but not as tall as a bear. His shoulders were broad under his black coat. His eyes, though – his eyes were a steely grey-blue, seeming even more light due to his dark brown hair that framed his face. He had obviously not had time to groom, but the days of growth on face only served to accent his already angular jawline, the slight dimple in his chin.

And Darcy could only think to herself,  _oh, if Emmaline only knew_.

 

“If I am to be thrown in the dungeon, might I beg of the Queen that it be one without spiders? I don’t like spiders.”

“I – I am very sorry. You weren’t meant to hear that.”

Prince James’ lips twitched.

“Yes. I figured.”

“Won’t you please sit?” She shakily gestured to one of the two armchairs. The tea and pastries set up by Coulson were already on the table.

In the awkward silence, Darcy chastised her stupid mouth for running away from her yet again, and busied herself by pouring them both tea.

“I want to – I am here because…Thank you,” Prince James said haltingly, so unlike the smooth, pretty words offered to her by her courtiers.

“It seemed that I did not have much choice,” Darcy answered unable to keep the sadness from weighing down her tone. She’d promised herself that she would cede gracefully, but the thought of a foreign power in her land,  _her home,_ made her heart ache.

“I know,” he said, in a voice so low and gentle she strained a little to hear him. “I won’t make you regret it just the same. We need all the assistance we can get. Schmidt’s navy is, as we speak, sailing through the Sapphire Sea.”

Darcy gasped. “So soon?” she asked, heart thumping.  _And so close?_

“Yes. And my men have received intelligence that he could be at your western borders within a month.”

Darcy put down her teacup with a shaking hand.

“But I promise you,” the Prince said, “I promise that he won’t be able to set foot here. Schmidt doesn’t fight honorably, but by the gods, we won’t let him take this part of our continent.”

Darcy clasped her hands tightly together in her lap. Prince James placed one large hand over hers. His calloused skin was warm and the weight a comfort.

From across the room, a soft, polite cough sounded. Coulson.

“I’m sorry.” He quickly drew his hand away. “Please forgive me, I’m unused to…well, all of this.”

“I admit I’ve never seen you or your family at our court.”

“The Barnes’ are –  _were –_ a smaller cadet branch. Then my father’s cousin died without an heir, and suddenly I’m being pulled out of military school to attend a proper boarding school. Someone hands me a title and so here I am.” He shifted uncomfortably. Then under his breath, “In this damned jacket which my valet tells me is exquisite but is actually extremely uncomfortable.”

Darcy was unable to help her huff of laughter. “It is a very fine jacket,” she reassured him. “And you look very…” she trailed off, any number of words filling her head.

Fantastic. Handsome. Dashing.

“Yes?”

“Nice. Good. You look good in the jacket.”

Prince James had a tease at the corners of his easy smile. “Why thank you, Your Highness.”

“Darcy,” she said, surprising herself a little. “I’ve threatened to imprison you, so I think I should allow you the use of my name.”

“Alright, Darcy. Please call me James.”

“Well, James, I hear much about you. Is any of it true?”

“Much of it is exaggeration.”

“What of your brother? Is he as fierce a fighter as I’ve heard?”

“Well, that part  _is_ true. Sometimes I have to pull him  _out_ of fights.”

“And other times?”

“And other times I join in,” he admitted with a chuckle and a sideways glance.

“And leading your army through a blizzard?”

“It was…a small blizzard?”

He was downright bashful, and Darcy found herself smiling into her teacup. “Well, wizards don’t exist so that part of your lore cannot be true.”

James laughed. “So we’ve heard the same tales. The only person who gave my brother his golden hair is our mother.”

“And I know you can’t possibly have a silv-“ but then Darcy’s eyes alighted on James’ left hand, covered in a black leather glove. “I – Oh, I mean –“ she stuttered.

James only smiled ruefully and pulled off the glove, revealing his silver hand. Darcy couldn’t help her intake of breath. “The silver arm is real but I’m afraid no wizard was kind enough to gift it to me or enchant it.” He swallowed audibly. “This was from a run-in with Schmidt’s men. You see now what I mean when I say that he won’t fight honorably. They do not believe in such things. All other countries until now have honored the neutrality of yours. He won’t. He doesn’t care. Your land, your people, are a means to an end.”

“What – what end?” Darcy asked even though it was with a sickening feeling that she already knew.

“He wants to conquer the world.” Then he leaned forward and looked at her with those ice blue eyes, solemn and serious again. “This treaty – Please don’t think this won’t mean everything to us - to my country, and to my men. Your promise of safe passage and the resources your lands and your people can provide…It is  _everything_  to us.”

The way he was looking at her…Darcy’s heart beat a hard rhythm against her bodice and she felt her face warm.

“Yes. Of course. It’s – it’s why I signed the treaty, James.”

“I am grateful every day for it,” James said softly. “Oh, yes. I’ve brought you something,” he said, almost mischievous. “In thanks for your kindness.” He looked to Coulson, who was standing patiently at the door, and nodded. Coulson then spoke a few words to the guards beyond.

In a moment, two guards were lugging in a smallish chest. It was lacquered onyx and was covered with sterling designs of waves and stars. There were bars at the top and when she glanced at her guards they looked strangely apprehensive.

Still, she knew that nothing inside would be truly dangerous. Not with Coulson and his team double and triple checking everything for her.

James carried in the box the rest of the way and placed it at her feet.

She reached down and unlatched the heavy gold hinge.

She expected gold coins or maybe jewels - necklaces or earrings or tiaras that were usually gifted to Queens. But when she opened the box the little thing that blinked back at her drew the breath from her lungs.

“A – a dragon!” Darcy exclaimed, overjoyed.

The young dragon, sighting Darcy, squirmed out its cage, and flew-hopped up to land itself in her skirts. Satisfied at the softness of her dress, it folded back its leathery wings and stared at her with inquisitive black eyes.

She took in its shimmering grey-white scales and the bright blue tips of its wings with awe.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she breathed. Hesitantly, she put out her hand. It sniffed at her for a moment then let her scratch lightly at its neck. “I’ll name it…”

Then the dragon opened its tiny mouth, revealing a series of little white teeth still on their way to being fangs, and attempted a roar. What resulted was a loud, raspy chirp that ended with a small burst of blue, crackling lightening emitted from its mouth, then disappeared just as quickly.

Darcy jolted in response then laughed delightedly. “I’ll name it Taser!”

In response, Taser cooed several times, blinked slowly, and curled up in her lap.

“A strange name, but it seems she likes it.”

“She? How wonderful. I always need more strong women beside me.” Darcy petted Taser along her spine, and Taser arched into her touch. “Thank you, James.”

“You’re very welcome.”

They chatted for a while after that. He told her of allies he’d made on his journey (an archer with impeccable aim, a man who could run so fast he was a mere blur), and she told him of her country – of the endless groves of oranges in the south, of how her cousin Jane’s work in the east made the entire area a center of learning for women and men both.

When word was received that Prince James’ quarters were ready, James took his leave but not before clasping her hand and bowing somewhat stiffly. When he smiled at her, she found herself smiling back.

“Well, Your Majesty? Shall I summon the builders to begin digging a foundation for the dungeons?” Coulson asked, when they alone. “Or does the Prince live another day?”

“He lives another day,” Darcy said, hiding her pinking cheeks behind a fall of hair. She trailed her hand down the smooth scales of the young dragon now perched on her shoulder. It purred loudly in her ear. “And as for the dinner tonight?”

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

“Please sit him next to me.”


	6. Bucky x Darcy, Competitive themed, G

Competitive themed: "we’re always making stupid bets like ‘bet you can’t drink this whole bottle of BBQ sauce’ but then you did and now you’re sick and I feel really bad here let me look after you"

Warnings: brief descriptions of vomiting, but it's vague imo.

* * *

 

 

The thing about Darcy was, she wasn’t ever going to save people from a burning building, or rescue an entire ferry full of passengers from alien explosives.

No, she decided to prove herself in smaller ways.

Darcy had silly contests going with the Avengers.

They didn’t mind during their off-time and she  _did_ end up feeling pretty good about herself when she could finish eating an entire Caramel Apple Pie before Steve did. (“Make a cheesecake next time,” Steve said amiably after he’d admitted defeat. “And I’ll definitely win.”)

 

Darcy knew that any contest with Bruce had to be handled with care. She was mulling over what to do when a she heard a tiny ‘ _mew’_  by a trashcan outside the facility.

“Okay,” she said to a bemused Dr. Banner when she returned to the labs. “First person who the kitty chooses as their bestie wins.”

Over the next several days she made kissy noises at it, she called it ‘a pretty baby’, she tried giving it bits of cheese. Still, it did nothing but stare balefully back at her from behind the trashcan. Then one day she was headed out with a can of tuna when she saw that Bruce had beaten her to it. The small, incredibly fluffy grey tabby was rubbing itself along his leg. Bruce looked up at her and smiled.

So, Darcy lost that one technically, but she’d definitely have the image of Bruce with a kitten perched on his shoulder forever. From then on, Faraday the cat lived in Bruce’s quarters.

 

It was difficult to enter a contest with a billionaire genius but Pepper, once she got wind of what Darcy was up to, gave her an idea.

“I’ll give you both a shopping list, and you complete it,” Pepper told them, while driving to town.

“Alright, pumpkin,” Tony said smoothly. “Where do you want us to shop? Barney’s? Cartier? Tiffany’s?”

Darcy held back a whine. Those places were above her paygrade, literally.

But Pepper just smiled patiently, eyes twinkling. “Target,” she said, as she pulled into the parking lot. She handed them both a list. “First person to meet me back at the car with exactly everything on this list wins.”

Thirty minutes later, Darcy was sprinting through the parking lot (not exactly safe, but she  _was_  in it to win it), plastic shopping bags in each hand, to a smiling Pepper.

Tony was already there, grinning smugly at her.

Pepper checked their lists with the contents of their bags.

“Sorry, kid,” Tony told her, looking not at all sorry.

“Actually, I said ‘exactly everything on this list’,” Pepper informed him. “So while you were faster than Darcy,  _she_  has everything on the list.”

“What’d I miss??! Pens? Double-Stuf Oreos? I know I got the toilet paper, I nearly knocked down some guy to get it!”

“You’re not missing anything. In fact, you have too much. Tony,” Pepper said, reproachfully. “Why in the world did you buy ten decorative mason jars?”

“I couldn’t help it! The Target Dollar section is  _right there!_ ” Tony despaired.

 

She was sprawled out on the common room couch, playing on her phone.

“Heard you bake pies,” came Barnes’ voice from behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin. She turned to glare at him right in his rakish grin and pretty blue eyes.

“Ooh no you don’t. I am  _not_  entering anymore eating competitions with supersoldiers. That stomachache nearly killed me last time!”

He grinned. “Not a pie eatin’ contest, sweetheart. I want one.”

Darcy saw her opportunity immediately. The chance to triumph (however small and silly) over the Winter Solider? Hells yes.

“Yeah? You’ll have to bet me for it.”

“I know. I’ve heard about your little contests. When I beat you –“

“ _When?!”_

“- at Mario Kart, I want a chocolate peanut butter pie,” Bucky said, sauntering away. He pointed a bionic index finger at her. “Don’t skimp on the peanut butter.”

“And what if I win?”

Barnes looked her up and down, and smirked. “I’m sure you’ll think of something.”

 

“Alright, Mario Kart! Barnes versus Lewis, let’s do this!” declared Sam, their judge. He rubbed his hands together and stated with authority, “Today’s challenge mode is…no Blue Shells.”

“Y’know…I think I want whipped cream with that pie,” Bucky said from beside her.

Darcy flexed her fingers before picking up the controller. “I am going to run you right off Rainbow Road,” she promised.

Minutes later, Darcy was cursing Bucky Barnes and his stupidly good aim with the Green Shells. She watched sadly as her Yoshi fell into the void of space.

“Aw, shit. I can’t believe a senior citizen beat you at Mario Kart,” Sam teased.

“Hey!” Bucky and Darcy exclaimed in unison.

She turned to Bucky. “Best two out of three?” she asked hopefully.

He smiled back. “Sure thing, doll.” He picked up his controller again.

“No, Barnes,” Darcy said. “I meant two out of three  _contests_.”

 

When Bruce invited them to yoga, Darcy had her next idea.

“First person to fall on their asses, loses,” Darcy declared, but Bucky only laughed and agreed. They even shook on it.

They made their way through down dog, table top, and eagle pose. Darcy only barely managed to keep her eyes to herself when Bucky followed Bruce’s instructions into a side plank. There were  _muscles_ and  _rippling_ and god, when his shirt rode up she could see where his muscle dipped on his hips and continued down lower, lower to – yeah. She snapped herself out of it before she seriously hurt herself.

They were all nice and warmed up and slightly sweaty when Bruce told them face one another. Then Darcy concentrated on breathing and extending and arching her back into camel pose.

She let out a relieved moan. She spent hours sitting in uncomfortable office chairs and the stretch was so  _nice_ after a long day.

Suddenly, Bucky cleared his throat and scrambled up from the mat. “Um, I gotta…go –” he said, glancing around shiftily. He took his water bottle and picked up his towel.

“So…I win?” Darcy said, hopefully.

“Yeah. Yeah, doll, you win this one,” Bucky answered, his voice slightly rough and unsteady.

Bruce watched the door shut behind a rapidly retreating Winter Soldier. “This was a contest?”

 

“This looks…disgusting,” Bucky muttered. They were in his quarters (surprisingly homey, and not at all as uptight or neat-as-a-pin as she thought it would be), and between them on the kitchen counter were two tall glasses of barbecue sauce. Specifically, the Stubb’s Spicy BBQ Sauce that she brought over.

“That’s the point,” she said. “First person to finish the entire glass wins. All of it.”

Bucky shrugged. “Guess I’ve had worse.” He still gave her an uncertain look, though.

“Okayyyy…Go!”

They began to drink.

The second she brought the glass to her lips, Darcy knew it was a mistake.

First of all, there was the smell. Now, Stubb’s BBQ sauce was delicious, yes. And normally it smelled…nice. Barbecue-y. But that was when it was served with delicious meat. In a glass, on its own, the spicy/sweet/savory scent was  _not_ good.

Then, when it actually hit her tongue? The strange gloopy, syrupy texture and an entire mouthful of the sauce on its own was awful. She gulped down what she could (not much) then put down her glass.

Bucky was right. It was disgusting.

Bucky was also finished. Darcy looked at his empty glass in awe.

“Holy shit, you did it!” Her own glass still looked as full as it was before. It was an indisputable win on Bucky’s part.

“Sure did, Darce, and now you owe me a –” Bucky paused, a strange look coming over his face.

“Are you – “

“Oh, god,” Bucky grunted and strode quickly to the bathroom, the door slamming shut behind him.

Darcy followed and was about to ask if he needed anything when the sound of his pained groan came through the door. Then came the definite sounds of someone worshipping the porcelain god. She hadn’t heard anything like that since her sophomore year of college.

Darcy winced and moved away from the door. She decided to wait for him on the couch, maybe get an apology in before he kicked her out and told on her to the Captain.

Eventually, there was the sound of water running, then Bucky emerged from the bathroom, looking pale and drawn and smelling vaguely minty.

Darcy shot up from her seat. “Oh my god, are you okay?! I’m so so sorry, I shouldn’t have made you drink that –”

But Bucky only waved his hand distractedly and stretched himself over the couch. His eyes were closed and he was still making little grumbling noises.

Darcy sighed. In the kitchen, she got a bottle of water from the fridge and dampened a kitchen towel in the sink.

She draped the cloth over Bucky’s forehead and pressed the water into his hand. He sat up and drank, one hand on his forehead keeping the towel in place.

“Don’t even like barbecue sauce,” he groused after downing about half the bottle in one go.

“What?! Then why even take the bet?!”

Bucky rolled his eyes, but said nothing. He capped the bottle, placed it on the coffee table, then lay back down.

“Dude…”

He turned to look at her for a second before shutting his eyes again. “Because…I like spendin’ time with ya, Darce,”

“Bucky…” Darcy began.

Bucky hummed. “I like that,” he said softly. This time he was staring at her.

“Like what?”

“When you say my name. Usually you just call me ‘Barnes’.”

“Oh.” Darcy flushed and bit back a smile. “So,  _Bucky_ …if I won…”

“Didn’t agree that you won, yet, sweetheart.”

“If I won, I’d want…” Darcy trailed off and threaded her fingers through the soft strands of his hair. She smiled when he leaned against her hand. “I’d want to go on a date.” She glanced at Bucky somewhat timidly.

Bucky chuckled, eyes alight with mirth. “In that case, congratulations, Champ.”


	7. Darcy x Pietro, Awkward meeting themed, G

Awkward first meetings: “This horrible umbrella won’t extend! Oh shit I just hit you in the stomach/crotch! I’m so sorry!”

 

Notes: SHIELD Agent Darcy Lewis. Also, according to the Google School of Language, in Czech “ _pako_ ” = dork and “ _miláček_ ” = honey, sweetheart.

* * *

 

 

“Work for SHIELD, see the world,” Darcy grumbled. She pulled her collar up against the fat drops of rain, then wrapped her arms around herself. “More like see a bunch of parking lots in Delaware.”

The rain was coming down harder than ever, beginning to soak through her issued jacket and ugh, getting through her shoes to her socks. That was probably her fault though, for wearing Chucks and not boots like she was encouraged to.

For what was probably the hundredth time, she shoved her hand into her pocket and felt for the memory stick. It contained locations of AIM cells on the east coast she’d downloaded from the computer in the “abandoned” office building. This was her first big assignment since she’d become an Agent, and although she hadn’t expected Captain-America-Punching-Nazis levels of excitement, she also hadn’t expected it to last approximately 15 minutes. That was the amount of time it took for her to disable the security alarms (ten minutes) and get the info she needed from the computer (five minutes - their password was ‘PASSWORD’ for cripes sakes).

Now she was bored and rapidly soaking while waiting for extraction.

Extraction never took this long for the other agents. Well, fine, the other agents were also waiting for extraction under a hail of gunfire, or a blaze of flames or something equally as dramatic and violent.

There was certainly no threat of gunfire but she  _was_  about to get violent as hell on the crappy umbrella she’d pulled from her messenger bag.

She was so busy trying to get the thing to work she didn’t notice the grey blur headed her way.

Her nemesis, the crappy umbrella that was going in the trash as soon as she got home,  _finally_ extended.

“HA!” she declared triumphantly at the same time a male voice cried out, “ _EUGGH_.”

And suddenly, there in front of her on his knees was a man. A silver haired man who was sort of curled up on himself, groaning. He made a high whining noise followed by what sounded like a bunch of very creative curses in a foreign language.

He had his hand cupped in front of his crotch, and his face was reddened and scrunched up pitifully when he glared at her.

“Dude, I am so sorry! I totally got you right in the nuts, didn’t I?! I didn’t – oh, my god. Can you walk? Here, let’s go over here,” Darcy said, and under her the shelter of her umbrella, led the slightly staggering guy to a brick wall. He put an arm out against it, and leaned on it heavily.

“This is worse than the time Cap threw that shield at me,” the guy said in a heavy Eastern European accent.

The accent.

The silver hair.

The (frankly, incredibly hot) toned bod. (Yes, she noticed, she was only human!)

“An Avenger?” Darcy said, with disbelief. “They sent an actual Avenger for my extraction?!”

“I was in the area,” Quicksilver croaked, still bent over slightly.

“I’m so gonna be fired,” Darcy said to herself. “I’m gonna be fired for hitting Quicksilver in the balls, of all things.”

He groaned again

Darcy winced.

Yeah. So fired.

“You’re Quicksilver, you do the – the thing!” Darcy said, and made pantomimed running motions as best she could with one hand on the umbrella. He looked confused and not very impressed. “Why didn’t you just, y’know,  _zoom_ out of the way or whatever?”

“Are you blaming me for this?!”

“…No?”

“Besides, I can  _zoom_  out of the way if I know something is there to  _zoom_ away from.”

“You look like you’re in a lot of pain, Quick – Mister Quicksilver?”

“Pietro,” he finished for her.

“Pietro. Should you do – do some breathing exercises maybe?”

“I am fine, fine,” Pietro gritted out, even as he followed her directions.

“I really am very, very sorry,” Darcy said, coming by to stand closer to him.

He looked at her up and down with mirthful appreciation _._ “I know, Agent. You keep petting my arm.”

And yep, there was her stupid hand rubbing Pietro’s stupid arm. She pulled it back as if it’d been burned and shoved it back into her pocket before it could get her into any more trouble.

“Shit. Sorry about that, too!”

One corner of Pietro’s mouth ticked up. “That’s alright.” He then pressed his fingers to his earpiece. “I’m with Darcy Lewis. Requesting extraction.”

A female voice, softly accented, answered. “Pietro…you are the extraction,  _pako_.”

“And now I need extraction, Wanda. When can you get here?”

The siblings murmured amongst themselves for a bit, and soon Pietro ended the communication with a hollow clicking-beep.

“So, I don’t see a car or a fancy jet. How were you going to get me out of here?” Darcy asked.

“I was going to…carry you.”

“Carry me,” she repeated, a blush blooming on her cheeks at the thought. Held tight against Pietro Maximoff’s chest, her arms around him? Yes, please.

“Yes. And then… _zoom._ ” Pietro looked at her with eyebrows raised.

“Well, I’m sorry I missed that,” Darcy said softly. She sent him a little smile.

“Wanda should get here in fifteen.”

Darcy bit her lip and nodded. “Okay.”

Pietro ran a hand through his thick silver locks and looked at her from beneath his lashes. “There is a coffee shop a block away. Would like to get coffee with me, Darcy? While we wait?”

“…Can you walk?”

“For you I will try, _miláček_.” And when he held out his hand to her, she took it.

Not a boring assignment, after all.


	8. Bucky x Darcy, High School Themed, G

High School Themed: “you asked me to prom by filling my locker with ping pong balls that say “prom?” on them but i tripped on one and smacked my head on a locker but thanks for taking me to the nurse!!! i still want to go with you!!” High School AU.

* * *

 

 

It started with Home Ec, which she took because she heard you got to eat whatever you made during class. She and Bucky were partnered up to make cheese quesadillas, and she handed him the last apron on the rack. (She really, really needed to wear the one that had a cartoon beet DJ that read, “Phat Beets” and wasn’t about to give it up.)

She expected Bucky Barnes – good-looking star football player, Barnes – to balk at the bright red apron with ruffles at the hem, but he only smiled, shrugged, and said, “Sweet. Red’s my favorite color.”

Two burnt quesadillas later, they were inseparable.

Bucky waited for her after school when Science Club let out (she was there mostly out of solidarity to Jane and Helen. She didn’t want them to be outnumbered by Tony and Bruce and Reed), and took her home. Her parents nearly had conniptions when they rumbled up the driveway on Bucky’s motorcycle.

Occasionally, she made it to his football practices and chilled out on the bleachers reading comics as Coach Fury put the team through their paces. She knew that Steve and Sam sometimes gave him shit when she waited for him, ribbing him about his “girl” but he never said anything to her about it, so she never pushed.

After winter break, Stark threw one of his legendary house parties.

“You’re coming, aren’t you?” Pepper asked her, cornering her at her locker one day between 3rd and 4th.

Darcy blinked. She talked to Tony in Science Club, but she didn’t even realize she registered on the Stark/Potts’ popularity radar. “Uhhhh…”

“Because Tony invited Steve and Steve wants Bucky around for beer pong and we all know he won’t show unless you’re there.”

“Wait. What?”

Pepper tucked an shiny strand of strawberry-blonde hair behind her ear. “The party, Darcy.” She smiled, and tapped her arm. “You coming?”

“I – Yeah. Yes!”

 

So, yeah. She and Bucky were friends. Good friends.

 

But now that prom was looming, Darcy realized that she was having decidedly non-platonic feelings about Bucky. Nope, her thoughts about his ridiculous cheekbones, his nice lips, or the way he casually slung an incredibly muscled arm around her when they walked to class were  _not_  platonic at all.

Honestly, she was hoping for a little prom fairy tale. One in which Bucky came to pick her up wearing a tux, saw her glammed out in a pretty dress with her hair done and maybe realize that his best girl friend could be his girlfriend. Or at least give her a hint that he’d be amenable to her asking  _him_ out.

She needed something dramatic.

So she weaseled out Bucky’s locker combination from Natasha (that chick somehow knew everything about  _everyone_ , it was sort of terrifying) and filled it with about a bazillion ping pong balls that she and Jane spent the entire night Sharpie-ing ‘PROM?’ onto.

After lunch, as usual, Bucky was at his locker joking around with Clint and Steve. He grinned broadly when he saw her, and her stomach clenched, happiness and nervousness swirling together.

“Hey, Darce,” he greeted. “We’re goin’ to that frozen custard place after school, you wanna come?” From the corner of her eye, she could make out Clint and Steve nudging each other for some reason. But before she could think too hard on it, Bucky reached for his combination lock and Darcy began to feel a bit sick.

“Yeah, sure. I’ll go,” she answered, weakly.

“You okay?” Clint asked.

“Yeah,” Darcy said, watching Bucky turn the knob around.

“You sure? ‘Cause -”

And then with a metallic thunk, Bucky opened his locker door.

As planned, hundreds of little ping pongs came flowing out like water. The other students milling about in the hallway all turned to look.

_Not_  as planned, Bucky murmured, “What the hell??” took a couple steps back and to her horror, tripped, and began to fall.

He flailed out his arms, managed to only grab onto a tiny corner of Clint’s jacket, slipped  _again,_ hit his head on a closed locker door with a  _thwang!_  and finally ended up sprawled on the floor.

His eyes were screwed shut and he groaned.

“Dammit. What the hell?” he said and brought one hand to his head.

Around them, people began to whoop and cheer and kick the little balls around. Some kids began to throw them at each other, laughing and yelling. Darcy forgot to add that part into her plan. Oh, she was gonna be in so much trouble.

Darcy’s immediate concern though, was with Bucky. She shoved some ping pong balls out of the way and sat down on the floor beside him.

“Shit, Bucky! Are you okay?!” She turned her panicked eyes to Clint and Steve, who both looked more confused than concerned. “What if he has a concussion?”

“His head is too hard for that,” Clint snickered, and Steve punched him in the arm and rolled his eyes.

“You alright, Buck?” Steve asked.

“M’fine, punk. Head hurts, but I think I’m okay.” Then he looked up at her and smiled blearily. “Walk me to the nurse, gorgeous?”

When the nurse asked what happened, Bucky merely answered, “I…fell.”

The nurse rolled her eyes, muttering something about ‘roughhousing’, then began to shine a penlight into Bucky’s pupils. Satisfied that there was no damage she brought him an ice pack and told him to sit and wait while she wrote him up a note for class.

Clint and Steve poked their heads into the nurse’s office to check on their friend and Darcy got up to reassure them that Bucky was mostly uninjured. The nurse shooed them out but let Darcy stay after she made her best Bambi eyes at her.

Darcy sat next to him on the bench, silent and guilty.

“So…” Bucky hedged after a bit. “What was with the ping pong balls?”

“You didn’t see?”

“Was too busy fallin’ on my ass,” Bucky joked, and Darcy winced.

“Um…I kind of put them there?” Darcy rummaged around in her backpack and found one of the balls from the extra bag she had. She took a deep breath.

“Here.” She showed it to him, the black block letters of ‘PROM?’ seeming more accusatory than cute now.

Bucky turned to her. Under the ice pack he was still holding to his head, he looked surprised but he was grinning. Darcy’s heart soared hopefully.

“Of course I’ll go with you, Darce.” And he put down the ice and took her hand tentatively in his cold one.

Darcy shuffled closer to him on the bench and he put his arm around her, hugging her to his side.

“I like your idea better,” he said leaning his head down to rest it on hers for a moment.

“Better than…”

Bucky cleared his throat. “Mine. Was gonna spell out ‘WILL YOU GO TO PROM WITH ME DARCY’ in sprinkles at the custard place,” he said, and Darcy burst out laughing, completely delighted.

“We could still go. We should skip the rest of the day anyways,” she said to him.

“Why?”

“’Cause Principal Coulson heard about the ping pong ball thing and  _might_  be looking for me.”


	9. Sam x Darcy, Ridiculous Sentences, G

Ridiculous Sentence Themed: “I understand the whole sleep talking thing but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.” Fake Marriage/Undercover.

* * *

 

 

She was wearing a giant, floppy straw hat.

Darcy Lewis was also sporting enormous Jackie O sunglasses and a bright pink halter top that – yeah, he wasn’t going to continue that thought because they were supposed to be professional and undercover and –

“Well, hellooo, husband!” Darcy called out, and some people in the terminal turned to stare and smile.

Sam made his way over to where she was seated on the airport terminal seat and casually leaned down to peck a kiss onto her offered cheek.

“Hey, sweetness,” he smiled. Then, once he was seated on the airport bench, tilted his head closer to hers.

“Whatever happened to incognito?” he asked, keeping his voice quiet and tugging at the brim of her giant hat for emphasis.

“Hmpf. You mean a baseball cap and sunglasses?” Darcy snarked, smiling. Still, she took the hat off and shook out her wavy hair. “Besides, we’re newlyweds and the new Mrs. Denise Louis Waters is like, super stoked to be married finally after years of being strung along by her commitment-phobe BF.”

“Darcy – “

“ _Denise,_ ” she corrected, in a tone that was pure mischief.

“ _Denise._ We’re not supposed to be drawing attention to ourselves.”

Darcy shrugged and continued to flip through her US Weekly. “Chill, dude. The guy you’re looking for is holed up at the Four Seasons in Maui, not here at the lovely and glamorous LaGuardia Gate D11.  _Hey_.” She turned to him and waggled her eyebrows playfully, red lips curled into a smile.

He tried not to gulp.

“Wanna get Cinnabon?”

“How many times have you done this?” he asked, once they were seated on the plane.

“Oh, lots,” Darcy answered casually and finished her complimentary champagne. She leaned in to whisper into his ear. “I’ve been married to Clint a bunch of times, to Steve twice, and some other agents, too. It’s fun, except when they make me wear wigs. Too itchy. Anyways, turns out they really need a civilian on these fake couple missions to be all…civilian-y. Y’know, unremarkable.”

Sam took in her bright blue eyes. He thought of her easy laugh, of how Clint actually  _pouted_  when he heard Sam got the assignment with Darcy ( _“Have fun, man! Lewis is a fuckin’ riot.”_ ).

“You are  _not_  unremarkable.”

Darcy’s smile was small and surprised. “Thanks, Sam.”

“No problem.”

She cleared her throat. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m gonna take a nap. Wake me when they come around with snacks, ‘kay?”

Sam grinned. “’Kay,” he repeated.

Darcy unwrapped the airline blanket from its plastic, tucked it around herself then slipped on an eye mask. It was light blue, and the two embroidered cartoon eyes had comically long eyelashes on it. He could only shake his head, bemused.

Twenty minutes into his book, Darcy stirred a bit and murmured beside him.

_“No, don’t! Stop that –_ “

Sam’s first concerned thought was that she was re-living some sort of traumatic experience (not exactly rare with the people he hung out with, unfortunately) but then Darcy continued.

_“Princess, fly away! Fly the dragon and don’t look back!”_

Sam bit back a chuckle. Okay, not a traumatic experience then.

“ _Sam -!”_

Well, that was interesting.

He tentatively poked her arm with the spine of his hardcover.

“Darcy? C’mon, sweetheart, wake up.”

Darcy jerked upright, yanked off her sleep mask and blinked blearily. “Whuh?…Snacks?”

“You were sleep-talking,” Sam told her, tucking the blanket back around her from where it began to slip off.

“I was?” Darcy’s face scrunched up.

Sam turned to her with crossed arms and a wide smile. “Now I get sleep talking thing, but what I don’t understand is the princess dragon dream and why I’m in it.”

“Oh! Um…I’ve been watching  _Game of Thrones._ And…” Darcy pulled the thin blanket tighter around herself and blushed. She was cute as hell with her hair a messy mop and her cheeks pink. “I saw a picture of you at your niece’s Disney Princess Birthday Party. You were wearing a tiara and a cape. I guess my brain filled in the blanks.”

“Was I the dragon?”

“What? No! You weren’t a dragon, you were the  _dragon princess_ , duh. You were totally Daenerys!”

Sam couldn’t help the look of shock on his face. Darcy laughed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t tell you that you also had long blonde hair?”

“Mm-hm. You shouldn’t but you did.” Sam sighed. “Was I wearin’ the dress and everything?”

Darcy giggled and slipped her eye mask into the seat pocket. “Um, no dude. Lucky for you it was your tac pants. Your butt looks great in those.”

“You  _are_ a riot, Darcy Lewis.”

“ _Now_  you’re getting it! And you’re pretty cool too – “

Sam tried not preen, but his broad smile emerged anyways.

“Especially when as Daenerys you flew away from the dragon pit in Meer – “

“Whoa!! Spoilers, woman!”

“Sam, that reference is like, two years old!”

“Well, I’m like, two years behind!”

Darcy gave him an incredulous look.

He rolled his eyes. “I’ve been busy. There’s been…stuff happening.”

“Ah. Right,” Darcy nodded in understanding. “Sooo…what do you do when you’re not flying around helping Steve commit semi-treason, or whatever?” Darcy picked at the fabric of her blanket. “’Cause there’s some downtime when we get to Maui and I bet I could download some episodes for us? We could drink mai tais and make fun of Jon Snow.” And then, hesitantly, she joked, “In case you get bored of sun, sand, and espionage.”

Sam was certain that he wouldn’t get bored of sun, sand, and espionage with Darcy Lewis around, but answered, “You know what, Mrs. Waters? It’s a date.”


	10. Bucky x Darcy, Awkward First Meetings #10, T

Awkward First Meetings, #10, ‘i’ve had a really awful day so i started kicking a car out of frustration and it turned out to be your car i’m so sorry’.

* * *

 

 

_2015, Somewhere outside of Munich…_  

 

A woman (bright blue jacket, a riot of brown hair, bulky messenger bag and a plastic bag) was kicking his car.

That it wasn’t really his car – he found the forest green Peugeot in Lyon, the keys were in the ignition, and the plates have been changed four times since – was no matter.

She was also screaming a litany of profanities in English at it that impressed a part of him that hadn’t seen the light of day in about 70 years.

A civilian, then.

“Stop that,” he said, and his voice came out as a growl.

The girl immediately stopped and whirled to face him.

“Wha – ”

“That’s my car,” he stated and stalked towards it.

“Shit! Sorry. I’m having a – a bit of a day and I needed to kick the crap out of something. You know?”

He knew.

She motioned to the ground, where the remnants of food were scattered on the asphalt.

“The stupid bag ripped,” the girl said. “And my lunch is gone.” She groaned and looked back at the sandwich shop. “I’ll be right back,” she told him, as she made her way to the shop.

That she wanted him to wait for her was strange.

After a little bit, he saw her walk out of the shop with another (double-bagged this time) plastic bag.

“Oh, good! You’re still here! Here,” she said and handed him something in a white paper wrapper. “Take it, please.”

He stared at it skeptically. “What is it?”

“Döner,” she answered. “From that place I just went into? It’s meats, veggies, bread. A sandwich. It’s good.”

It smelled good. Vague thoughts of how she might have poisoned it crossed his mind, but he saw her order through the shop window. It didn’t look like she had time to alter it in any way.

And he  _was_  hungry.

When he took it from her, she grinned then handed him a can of soda and a straw as well.

“An apology for beating up your car,” she told him, unprompted. She leaned back against the trunk and began unwrapping her food. Hesitantly, he did the same. “…And you looked like you could use it. No offense.”

He drank some of the Coke and as the fizzy, sweet taste went down his throat he thought of the crack of a baseball bat on a warm spring day and the laughter of a friend, blond and skinny and always ready for a fight.

“Thanks for the drink,” he managed after a bit, his voice still slightly croaky from disuse.

“You’re American,” she said, almost accusatory.

“So are you,” he countered.

She nodded and took a bite of her sandwich. “Again, sorry I kicked your car.”

“Why…why were you kicking my car?”

She sighed, long and drawn out, and wiped the corner of her lip with a napkin. “It’s been a shitty month, my dude. My boss has all these job offers that she’s not taking. That leaves me, her plucky and adorable assistant – ” she exaggeratedly batted her eyelashes at him and he found himself breathing out a laugh. “ – In career limbo. Which would be fine, but my parents have really been on my ass to shape up.  _Then_ the guy I was sort of seeing quit.”

“He…ended things with you?”

“No, man, he quit. He was  _my_ assistant. And he didn’t even say goodbye, just left his resignation letter taped to the refrigerator and fucked off. I’ve never been dumped via resignation letter before.” She paused and turned to him, her brows knitted above her pretty eyes. “Have you?”

“…No.”

“See?! That’s messed up, right? So then here I am on vacay and I’m about to go back to the hostel and eat my feelings then all of my food fell out of my bag. So I kicked your car.”

“Oh. That’s…” Refreshingly normal, he wanted to say.

“Not the appropriate response, I know. When you feel shitty, you should ‘think about your place in the universe’. I read that in a magazine. For instance, here we are, two Americans in Germany, eating Turkish food, after I’ve kicked your French car. That’s kinda cool right? All of the weird things that had to happen in history and time for us to be right here?”

He shrugged one shoulder.

“Sure,” he said, his own history probably too weird and twisted to mention.

“What’s your name?”

“Why do you need to know?”

Now it was her turn to shrug, lifting one shoulder under her peacock blue jacket. She sipped at her Coke. “I figured, we’ve been talking a bit, we’re having lunch, it’d be nice to have a name. You’ve got one, don’t you? ‘Cause I can probably give you a bunch but you wouldn’t like ‘em,” she joked.

“Bob,” he answered, smiling around his straw.

She paused, putting down her sandwich to raise one eyebrow at him. “Your name is  _not_  Bob.”

“What’s wrong with ‘Bob’?”

“Nothing if that’s your name. That’s not your name.”

“It is,” he said with finality.

“Buddy, you are the least Bob-looking person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah? What’s  _your_  name, doll?”

Shit. ‘Doll’. Where the hell did that come from? Still, it felt kind of…familiar.

Felt kind of like…dancing (and he’d danced before, he was certain), and music (horns, jazzy piano riffs), and perfume (sweet, floral).

It felt right. Even if the girl was now looking at him with barely repressed glee, biting down on the corner of her lip and giving him a dimpled smile.

“’Doll’,” she lilted at him, and now he inwardly groaned. “Y’know, I’ll take it. That’s my name for now.”

“That’s  _not_ your name.”

“Isn’t it,  _Bob_?”

He rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

“Fine,” she said, and happily took a bite of her sandwich.

They finished their meal in companionable silence.

Eventually the girl swept her hands against each other and brushed the crumbs off the front of her shirt. “So where are you headed next?”

“Why do need to know?”

“I don’t, I’m just curious.”

“East, I guess.” Far away, he thought to himself. Somewhere to get lost and hopefully be left in peace.

“Hm. If you’re ever in Prague, go check out the Astronomical Clock. It’s pretty rad.”

“’Rad’,” he repeated softly to himself, testing out the word in his mouth.

She smiled. “Yeah. Rad.” She reached back into the plastic bag and handed him a little cardboard box, pale pink. “Here.”

He looked at it skeptically. “What is it?”

She let out an exasperated sigh, and opened it for him to see. Inside were little pieces of pastry on wax paper. Even though he’d just eaten the sandwich, he salivated at the sight. “I can’t – “

“Oh jeez, please just take it. It’s baklava, it’s good, I promise. I’m full and I still need to take the train back to the hostel and it’ll probably get all soggy and goopy before I get there.”

And even though he saw that lie for what it was, he reached out for the box anyways.  

“Thanks, doll.”

“No problem.” She got up to leave but then turned towards him, a little hesitantly. “Darcy,” she said.

He looked up from the pastry box. “What?”

“Darcy. That’s my name,” she answered. Then quickly added, “You don’t have to tell me yours. Just…be safe, okay? Good luck, wherever you’re headed.”

He nodded, the heavy feeling in his gut, his heart, making it so he was unable to say anything.

As confident and chatty as she was before, now she was tentative and shy as she held out her hand for him to shake. His heart beating hard in chest, he took her hand in his, shabby glove and all, and squeezed it once as gently as he could manage.

“It was nice meeting you, Bob.”

He swallowed. “You too.”

She walked away.

That night, he fell asleep with the taste of honey on his tongue.

For the first time in a long time his dreams weren’t filled with cold and blood and screaming. He dreamt of warm, homey apartments, of laundry hanging out to dry from windows, of sharing cigarettes and chocolates around a campfire with friends long gone.


	11. Bucky x Darcy, Awkward First Meetings #4, T

Awkward first meetings, #4, Trapped in a bank during a robbery

* * *

 

 

“Don’t panic,” came a voice from beside her.

She startled anyway, jumping as much as one could when one was crouched beneath a check writing table at the bank.

The bank that was currently in the process of being robbed.

Robbed badly, as it were.

The tall, skinny burglar with a perpetually reddened face choose this day, the day Darcy was at the bank, to hold up the wrong bank teller.

Rhonda, as her nametag said, had her finger on the police call button almost as soon as Robber Guy shiftily stepped up to her station with an empty duffel bag and a gun.

What looked like the entire precinct soon rolled up to the parking lot, red and blue lights flashing, causing Robber Guy to immediately lock the place down and take them all hostage.

Of all the days to run her damn errands, she thought to herself. She knew she should have switched to paperless.

With a narrowed stare, she took in the man now crowding in beside her in her hiding place.

“Sergeant Barnes?”

She knew Barnes was at the facility, but she’d only ever glimpsed him in passing. She did attend one intensely uncomfortable ‘briefing’ by Captain America in which he’d basically said that no one was to bother his bestie and that he was laying low for the time being. Which, after the fiasco with the UN, seemed to be a logical idea.

Barnes’ lips quirked up a little at her using his rank, giving her a glimpse of annoyingly cute dimples.

“At your service, ma’am,” he replied in dry voice that told that he and Steve must have practiced the troll-y tone together in the olden days. “And you can call me ‘Bucky’.”

“Are you here to bust this guy? ‘Cause y’know,” she gestured to Robber Guy over by the front doors, waving his gun around, cowing all of the other hostages. He was sweating through his jacket and his eyes were crazed. “He’s over there.”

“Actually, I was here to tail you.”

“Tail me? Oh, for - !” She rolled her eyes.

You get kidnapped a time or three and they send you out with a babysitter.

Which would be fine except her ‘babysitter’ is apparently the Winter Solder aka Bucky Barnes. And she’s never had thoughts of the making out variety about her babysitters before.

“ _You’re_  my babysitter?”

“I am  _not_ a babysitter. I was sent to keep an eye on you so you wouldn’t get taken.  _Again._ ” He gave her a sideways glance. “You sure do go to Starbucks a lot.”

“It’s Peppermint Mocha season,” she huffed, trying to keep her voice low. “Don’t judge me.”

“BE QUIET OR YOU’LL BE FUCKIN’ SORRY,” Robber Guy bellowed in their direction.

This time, Darcy flinched, and unbidden, hot tears began to gather at the corners of her eyes.

“Hey. Hey, doll, it’ll be alright,” Bucky said and clasped her forearm, the movement cautious and jerky.

It was a comfort all the same.

“I know. I hate this. I was just here to do dumb bank errands.”

“Guess you weren’t expecting this sort of excitement, huh? Trapped with a bank robber and a known murderer.”

“Is that ‘known murderer’ supposed to be you? Because I definitely seem to remember watching the Winter Solder beat the shit outta HYDRA agents right alongside Thor, and Cap, and Iron Man.”

“Sorry you had to see that,” mumbled Bucky.

“What? No, you don’t get it. Once on TV, I saw you rappel down the side of building, land in front of a HYDRA van, pull the door from its hinges, then do some fancy knife work on the guys inside. Dude, there were cold showers taken that night, lemme tell you. …Oh my god, am I still talking?” she asked, weakly giving a self-conscious smile. “Fear makes me overshare, don’t mind me. I’ll just be over here. Under this table, wishing the ground would open up and swallow me whole.”

Darcy tucked her legs up to her and hugged them to her chest.

When she glanced over at him, Bucky Barnes - the Winter Soldier, sniper, and ex-assassin – was  _blushing_ to the tip of his nose.

“Darcy – ”

“I HAVE A LIST OF DEMANDS!” shouted Robber Guy into his cell phone.

Darcy winced and rested her forehead on her knees, making herself smaller.

“Fuck this,” Bucky snarled, and moved to crawl out of their hiding space.

“Get back here, Barnes!” she hissed and pulled on his jacket sleeve before he could sneak out from under the table. “Whatever happened to laying low? No one’s even supposed to know you’re at the facility! The police have it under control.”

Bucky gave an unconvinced grunt.

“I WANT $500 MILLION IN MY BANK ACCOUNT IN THIRTY MINUTES,” came Robber’s panicked screeching. “OR I START SHOOTING HOSTAGES,” he added, and hung up.

Bucky turned to her, eyes hard and flinty under his baseball cap.

“You like Italian?” he growled at her. He was taking off his gloves and flexing his hands.

“What?”

“Italian food, do you like it?”

“I – Yes?”

“ _Enzo’s_ tonight at 7? I’ll come pick you up.”

“Oh-kay.  _Bucky!”_  But it was too late. He was out like a shot from under their table, and immediately launched himself at robber who actually  _screamed_. It was a flurry of hands and (metallic) fists as Bucky subdued him.

It was over in seconds.

The robber was on the floor, face smushed against the ground, and Bucky was on top of him, his knee jammed up against the guy’s lower back.

“Darcy?” he called out over his shoulder.

She awkwardly slid out from under the table on her hands and knees. “Yes?”

“Call Steve, wouldja, sweetheart?”

So she did and in about ten minutes, everyone in the bank was freed and the police had their suspect in cuffs and stewing in the back of the police cruiser.

She and Bucky made their way through the crowd and press.

Then Cap headed towards them, tall and broad and noble, lines of concern etched around his eyes.

“Buck, what happened – “

“Not right now, punk,” Bucky grinned at his friend, even as Cap sputtered and balked. He held out his arm to her and she smiled placing her hand in the crook of his elbow. “Gotta escort this young lady home.”

“Bye, Cap!” Darcy called out, as they sidestepped the gathered crowd. “I’ll have your pal home before midnight!” She looked up at Bucky, who had an impish gleam in his eyes and a wicked smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

“ _Maybe_!” she amended.


	12. Darcy x Tony, Meeting at a Party, T

Funny meeting at a party, #1,  “i was on my balcony and you started loudly quoting romeo and juliet at me”

* * *

 

 

Darcy leaned against the balcony, grateful for the cool night air across the back of her neck. Stark’s parties were always amazing, but sometime around 1am she usually started to feel claustrophobic and too hot. She must be getting old.

She sipped at her candy apple martini (it was bright red, and had gold leaf on the rim because Tony Stark was the least subtle person on the planet) and listened politely as Helen Cho talked about her plans for the rest of the weekend. (Genius geneticist and an avid free climber? She was a madwoman.)

Cho was in the middle of lamenting the cost of proper rock shoes when suddenly, there was giggling from below them.

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks! It is the east and Darcy is the sun!!” The man called out loudly and flung his arms dramatically to the heavens.

Helen nudged her none too gently and Darcy’s drink sloshed dangerously in its glass. “Darcy, that’s Tony Stark!”

“Oh my god,” Darcy squeaked as Helen threw her head back and cackled with laughter “What in the world is he doing? How does he even know – ”

“The very instant that I saw you, did my heart fly into your service!” Tony yelled. His tie was loosened, and he was grinning up at her. Bruce Banner stood next to him, pinching the bridge of nose and trying desperately to blend in with a topiary.

“He’s mixing up the plays,” Darcy said, one hand on her hip.

“That’s what you’re getting from this?!” asked Helen incredulously.

She handed her drink off to Helen, then leaned over the railing.

“How drunk are you, Stark?”

“Rude! I was in the middle of a solil – a solay – I was in the middle of wooing the beautiful scientist!”

Darcy rolled her eyes.

Wooing.

Apparently she was being wooed. By Tony Stark of all people.

Okay, so she wasn’t completely immune.

Tony Stark was hot. He was confident. He also had like, a million advanced degrees and Darcy, herself the recent recipient of a PhD, was a person who’d quite inadvertently surrounded herself with geniuses of all disciplines.

Smart was sexy as hell.

But she also knew that Stark’s penchant for going through women like…well, a playboy billionaire, was legendary.

She was understandably cautious.

“So whaddaya say, Lewis?” Tony called out again. “You, me, dinner? Or you, me, Italy? I can have the jet ready tomorrow. Sunbathing on the Amalfi coast, baby!”

“Sleep it off, Romeo!” she yelled back, even as her martini-addled brain was coming up with interesting new ways to break public indecency laws on the beach with Tony. She told her brain to shut up and dragged a pouting Helen back inside.

 

On Monday morning, Darcy shuffled blearily into the lab before her morning coffee no less, to find a giant unicorn on her desk.

It was pink. Its horn was a glittery purple. It smiled manically at her with big shiny eyes.

“What – ”

“Tony,” Bruce finished for her distractedly, while swiping his way through a holo-screen littered with equations. How he could do advanced mathematics before 9am would always be a mystery to her.

Darcy groaned and picked up the phone.

He answered after the first ring.

“Do you like it?” he asked, sounding a bit breathless.

There was grunting in the background, the sound of machines whirring. Morning workout then. She scrunched her nose. At least she hoped it was a morning workout.

“Stark – ”

“Tony.”

“Tony. Why is there a giant mythological creature on my desk? Before I’ve had my coffee?”

“You don’t like him? His name is Periwinkle. He told me he likes rainbows, and sparkles, and says there’s a reservation waiting for us at Pearl at 7 this Friday if you’re up for it. He says to wear those heels that do that thing that make your ass look – ”

“Tony!”

“Yes, darling,” he purred.

“I am not your darling. No thanks to the dinner.”

“Huh. …And the unicorn?”

She paused. “I’m keeping it,” she said, and hung up on him.

“Is Tony trying to ask you out again?” Bruce asked, a small smile playing on his face.

Darcy shrugged, and ran her fingers through the Perwinkle’s hot pink mane. “I guess.”

“He went straight to the stuffed animals. He likes you a lot.”

“He likes the chase a lot. He likes buying stuff a lot. Jury’s out on whether he actually likes the sarcastic lady who yells at him sometimes.” She took the unicorn off her desk, and petted it a little sadly. “You men are so weird,” she said as Bruce went back to his work, completely oblivious. “I wish Janey was here.”

 

On Thursday afternoon, there were a shit ton of flowers waiting for her in her apartment.

“Whaaat the fuck,” Darcy stated as she took in the lilies and orchids and roses that were on her sofa, on every surface in her kitchen, the garland (an actual garland!) strung over the doorway to her bedroom. It was as if Tony watched that one scene from The Great Gatsby movie, shrugged, and said, ‘I could do better.’

Tony himself was standing in her living room, holding one single white orchid, smiling hopefully.

He gestured at his surroundings proudly.

“You keep buying things,” she said, simply. “And you broke into my apartment.”

Tony raised one shoulder. “I’m good at buying things. And you keep your key under your doormat.”

“You can be good at other stuff.”

“I’m good at that too,” Tony said waggling his brows.

“So I’ve heard,” Darcy said with a bit more bitterness than she wanted to. Tony’s features softened, and he was no longer leering. She sighed, moved a bouquet of white roses out of the way, and sat down heavily onto her couch motioning for him to join her.

“Actual romance,” she said, after he sat down next to her. “Romance you can’t buy.”

Tony smiled with a gleam in his eyes. She knew that gleam. That was his ‘Challenge Accepted’ gleam.

Oh no.

 

That Friday, Tony gawped at her.

“I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly? Did you say that you want to drive into Manhattan? On a Friday before a holiday?”

Darcy shrugged. “Not drive. I’m taking the bus.”

Tony made a face like she just suggested he run Windows Vista in his suits. “That’s it. Get your stuff, and meet me in the garage in five.”

For that entire afternoon, Tony gamely followed her around no less than four used book stores and even accompanied her to Zabar’s when she decided that what people really needed at the facility were black and white cookies. No small feat considering the holiday crowds.

Finally, laden down with bags of old books and treats, Darcy called for a break.

“Let’s get something to eat,” she said to Tony, who had seen her purchase of The Long Goodbye and was idly flipping through it in the middle of the cheese section, much to the annoyance of other shoppers.

“Thank god. I’m starving, I’ll just call – ”

“No, no fancy places with reservations. Just…follow me,” Darcy said and took the box of cookies from Tony before he could eat them all.

A bit later, they were sitting on a bench in Riverside Park eating hot dogs. Tony had a spot of mustard at the corner of his mouth.

“You’ve got a…here.” Darcy reached over and swiped at the spot with her thumb, then licked it off her finger.

Tony grinned. “So.” He looked at her with barely contained mirth. “Aren’t we just the cutest – “

Darcy sighed. “Don’t ruin the moment, Tony.”

“Who me? I’d never. I was trying to say that we make a good team. Why, what’d you think I was doing?”

Darcy rolled her eyes but smiled anyways. She nudged the toe of her red Converse to his Oxford. He winked at her then took another bite of his hot dog.

 

Sunday night, Darcy walked into her apartment to find that it was already occupied.

She was ready to scream at the intruder but then she saw the familiar scarf and the familiar face beneath the knit hat.

“Jane!” Darcy yelled and flung herself into her best friend’s arms. Jane hugged her back, laughing, tightening her arms around the other girl.

“Surprise!” Jane said, voice slightly muffled by Darcy’s hair.

A soft cough alerted Darcy to Tony’s presence. He stood off to the side, hands in his pockets, watching with a pleased look on his face.

“You’ve brought me Jane?!” Darcy grinned.

Jane smiled into the fabric of Darcy’s sweater. She pulled back, flicking Darcy’s nose gently.

“Hey! I brought myself. The conference was a bust anyways. Boring and totally, as you’d say, a sausage fest. Tony did call me and offered to fly me back though.”

“I didn’t pay for it!” Tony interjected, before Darcy could say anything. “I used my frequent flyer miles.”

“You have frequent flyer miles?” Darcy asked.

“I got to sit in First Class. My god, the leg room,” breathed Jane happily. “And they gave me champagne and cookies!”

Tony shuffled a bit, looking as unsure as she’d ever seen him and said, “Alright, Lewis, I’m going crazy here. Did I pass or –“

So Darcy just walked up to Tony Stark and planted one on him. Not to be outdone, Tony kissed her back just as fiercely, grinning all the while and winding an arm about her waist. He was doing things with his tongue that made her feel like her hairs were standing on end.

Vaguely, over the buzzing in her veins, Darcy heard Jane’s voice. “Um. Did I miss something? And why do have so many flowers in here?”


	13. Bucky x Darcy, Nobility Themed #2, T

Nobility themed, #2, “we’ve been engaged to be married since we were three but this is the first time we’ve met and your portraits really don’t do you justice”. 

Modern Royalty AU

* * *

 

She blamed the Duke.

Specifically, Duke James Buchanan Barnes.

Darcy pulled her scarf tighter around her face and neck, and tried to keep her head down against the swirling wind and snow. She told herself that she would be fine.

Which would be much easier to believe if she hadn’t just recently spun out her car and was now walking alongside the road in a snow storm hoping to find shelter.

If she hadn’t been engaged to some stranger (Barnes), she wouldn’t have felt the need to “accidentally” miss the meeting to cement the engagement.

The meeting was to take place the next day. The official engagement. Darcy, happily reassuring her parents that she would be there, took the next flight out to Switzerland and spent the long weekend skiing and taking advantage of spa treatments and delicious fondue.

Then, of course, after a day on the slopes she’d been driving back when it started to snow.

Again. None of this would have happened were it not for James Barnes and his “decorated military service” and her “duty to two great families.”

She was cursing her luck and quite frankly, freezing her ass off, when a car pulled up beside her. She stiffened, not sure whether to keep walking because serial killers are a thing or to stop in case there was nice Swiss family inside willing to drop her off at the hotel.

“Hey, do you need a ride?” The man in the car was leaning over to call out to her. From the lowered side window Darcy could only see his eyes. He wore a black thick knitted scarf what was pulled up around the lower half of his face as hers was.

On the one hand, he looked like a  _Forensic Files_  episode waiting to happen. On the other hand, she could no longer feel her toes nor see more than five feet in front of her due to the howling winds and snow.

She pulled on the door handle and got in.

“If you’re gonna murder me in this car,” Darcy said, warming her mittened hands in front of the heater. “Can you please turn the heat up first?”

“I can’t murder ya in this car,” the guy beside her answered, voice deep and smooth, and even through his scarf there was humor laced through his comment. “It’s a rental.”

Darcy glared at him. Judging by the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, he was smiling at her.

“Drop me off at the Imperial, please?” she asked after they’d been driving at a snail’s pace for a while.

“Uh…I don’t think we’re gonna make it that far in this snow. I think it’s upgraded to a blizzard, now.”

Darcy groaned.

“But my friend has a cabin near here. We can wait it out there.” He turned to her. “Is that okay?”

Darcy looked out the window, where the guy’s wipers were putting up a valiant attempt against the swirling snow. Though their headlights were on, visibility was low, and she couldn’t imagine driving any further in the storm.

“Alright,” she said to him. “But don’t even think of getting fresh!”

He chuckled, a warm rumbling sound. “Wouldn’t even dream of tryin’, ma’am.”

Eventually, they slowly turned onto a small dirt road that carved its way into the pine forest.

They pulled up to a small one-story log cabin, and Darcy smirked at the raggedy welcome mat that had “GO AWAY” printed on it.

After entering in the keycode, the man pushed open the front door and invited her in.

“Umm.” Darcy was again aware that she was in a cabin with some dude who picked her up from the side of the road. “I’m gonna call my friend and tell her where I am.”

He nodded, and pulled out his own cell phone.

Jane picked up after the first ring.

“Darcy?” Jane said, and Darcy cringed at the panic in her friend’s voice.

“Negative,” Darcy answered, shivering. “I am a meat popsicle.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Uhhh. A cabin in the woods?”

“What – “

“With some guy?” she finished weakly, fiddling with the zipper to her coat.

“The name’s Bucky!” said the man, stomping out the snow and ice from his boots on the doormat.

“Jane, please, I’m fine. Actually, he sort of rescued from a cold, icy death in a ditch so…”

“I repeat, where are you and what are you doing there and why are you not  _here._ Your mom’s been worried sick!”

“I’m in Switzerland,” Darcy said quickly. “Okayyy, bye!” she added, then over the sounds of Jane’s indignant squawk, she turned off her phone and shoved it back in her pocket.

The guy had taken off his knit cap, and was running his hand through thick, dark hair.

“I just called Clint – this is his cabin. He said the heater’s old so it’ll take a while for the place to heat up,” he said apologetically.

Darcy nodded, rubbed her mittened hands together and looked around the place.

It was simple set up, a living room (with a fireplace, she noted with joyous relief), a small open kitchen and a hallway that led to what was presumably a bedroom.

Despite the tightly wound scarf around her face, she could see her own plumes of breath in front of her. She comforted herself with the thought that at least they were indoors. She hugged her arms around herself.

“Jesus, you’re freezing,” Bucky said. “I’ll get the fire going, okay?”

“Yeah, thank you,” she managed, and followed him over to the large stone fireplace. There were only a few sad-looking logs in the firewood rack.

“I guess I’m on wood chopping duty,” Bucky sighed, and pulled his cap back on. “Make yourself at home. Clint says there’s extra blankets and stuff in the hallway closet.” He turned to look at her, two piercing blue eyes over the black of his scarf wound around his face. “If I’m not back in fifteen, come chisel me out of the ice, okay?”

Darcy huffed out a laugh. “Promise,” she answered, holding two fingers up in a Scout’s Honor.

The crinkles at his eyes made another appearance.

He left in a gust of icy wind through the door.

Through the window, she could make out his bulky dark figure against the white of the snow on the ground and trees. He was swinging an ax,  _an actual ax_ , quickly and efficiently splitting the logs.

Then, realizing that she was ogling a tiny bit, Darcy shook herself out of it and began looking through the house. From the hallway closet she pulled out some pillows and two thick blankets and placed them all on the couch.

In the kitchen, as expected, there was nothing but bottled water and some random condiments in the fridge. It didn’t look like the place was occupied recently, so no surprises there.

One of the cupboards,  _did_ hold a box of Hershey’s hot cocoa packets. There was no milk, so she put a kettle of water on the stove and got out two mugs.

By the time she was done, Bucky had returned with a huge pile of logs in his arms. Fat fluffs of snow were sticking to his cap and scarf and eyelashes.

She gestured to their drinks. “There’s hot chocolate!” she told him, as he sat down in front of the fireplace and began setting up their fire.

“Aw, hell yeah,” he declared. “Thanks.”

When the fire got going, crackling softly and filling the room with comforting scent of burning wood and a much welcomed heat, they sat in front of it, each under their own blanket.

Bucky reached for his mug, then with his other hand unwound his scarf. Revealing the lower half of his face.

And Darcy realized that Bucky was familiar.

Very familiar.

In fact, his face was the one that stared out at her from the portrait in her bedroom.

“Oh my god,” she yelped. “You’re – “

 

_say something clever, say something clever_

“…husband!”

 

Fuck.

 

It had been several years since the portrait was given to her, and even back then she had to admit he was handsome in his military uniform, medals adorning his broad chest, standing tall and gallant.

But time had only served to make him more attractive. He’d lost some of the baby fat at his cheeks, his eyes were a bit more melancholy, more intense. He’d let his hair grow out, no longer under the commands of his military regs.

In short, he was hot.

The bastard.

“Sorry, what?” His brows knitted in confusion.

She shoved her own scarf down from her face, taking off her fleece hat and shaking out her hair for good measure.

“Lady Darcy?! Darcy Lewis?”

She gave him a small, jerky wave. “Hi.”

“Holy shit. What – how…what –  ”

“Yeah, me too, dude.” Darcy narrowed her eyes at him. “Why’d you lie about your name, James Barnes?”

He stopped goggling like a fish to answer. “Oh! Everyone calls me Bucky. I’m only called ‘James’ when I’m in trouble.” He grimaced. “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”

Despite herself, Darcy found herself smiling. “No, you aren’t. Well, you might be. What are you doing here? Aren’t we supposed to meet, oh I don’t know, tomorrow?”

He raised a brow. “I could ask you the same thing, you know.”

“Easy. I was avoiding  _you,”_ she sniffed imperiously.

He let out a bark of laughter at her honesty. “Well, same here.”

Darcy shook her head and laughed, too. “I can’t believe this.” Then shyly, “I um – have that painting of you. That’s how I recognized you.”

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned. He self-consciously rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “Ugh – my mother commissioned that thing years ago. Felt kind of like a dick, with that getup and all the – ” he gestured In front of chest where all of his medals would be, “- y’know.”

Darcy looked at his chiseled jawline, the curve of his lips. “Um. I wouldn’t worry about it,” she reassured him. “Wait. Oh god, you don’t have a portrait of me from back then, do you?”

He reddened and blinked rapidly. “Uh, no, I – I don’t.” He licked his lips. “I have a – here,” he said while pulling the neck of his sweater down. He yanked out a metal chain and the dog tags on it clinked together.

Also on the chain was a pendant. With his thumb, he flicked it open and in it was a little picture of her.

It must have been taken at some gala from a while back. She was grinning wide and happy at someone off-camera and strands of her hair had come loose from its updo from all the dancing she did that night.

“I’m pretty sure your parents sent this to mine. …I didn’t know you,” Bucky said, and she heard him swallow. “But I had this with me. Over there. It helped me…to know that I had to make it back because someone was waitin’ on me.” He looked up at her, shy blue eyes under dark lashes and she found herself flushing. “Was that…okay?” he ventured.

Darcy’s eyes widened, and she nodded. “Yeah…yeah, that was very okay, Bucky.”

He smiled. “Good – “

“I used to talk to you.”

“What?”

“Right, well, keep in mind I’m an only child of  _very_  overprotective parents. And this was before I met Janey and I didn’t have a lot friends. My mom had your portrait put in my room.” Darcy let out a huge breath, steeled herself then continued. “And I used to talk to it. Y’know, Dear Diary sort of stuff. Like, ‘Dear Diary, today sucked, we had the Chiltons over for dinner and the Countess’ Pekingese peed in my shoes. Also, I’m failing Organic Chem.’”

“Wow.”

Darcy winced at herself. “Yeah.”

“Since we’re uh, apparently betrothed,” Bucky said, interrupting her thoughts, and Darcy bit her lip at the slight crack she heard in the last word. “Do you, maybe, want to share this blanket?”

“Sure,” Darcy laughed, relieved that she hadn’t ruined everything. “Yes, I do. Hey!” She bumped her shoulder against his playfully. “Look at that, ‘I do’. I’m good at this already!” she joked, even as she snuggled closer.

Bucky rolled his eyes but draped his blanket over her anyways, and soon she felt weight of his arm over her shoulder, and the idle brush of his thumb on her upper arm. Bucky was a warm presence beside her, the plaid blanket was resting over them like a giant cape, and the fire was crackling merrily in front of them. She lay her head on his shoulder and he sighed.

Outside, the wind was kicking up and dark was bearing down on their little cabin. At that moment, there wasn’t anywhere else in the world that Darcy would rather be.

When she turned to him, Bucky ( _her fiancé_ , she told herself giddily) was staring at her with a soft expression like he was thinking the same thing.

Five minutes later, the heater finally kicked in.

 

They stayed under the blanket.

 


	14. Loki x Darcy, Height Difference, G

Height Difference Themed, #1, “I’m in a bookshop and I really need that book can you get it for me??? Wait you’ve read that book? let’s have an in depth conversation about it.”

( i tried to get these two to have an in-depth conversation but they wouldn’t stop snarking at each other ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯)

* * *

 

 

Darcy was sure that of all the ways she could die, the dumbest by far would have to be by breaking her neck in an Asgardian library. She was teetering on an ornate gold stool stretching for that one leather-bound tome that was just out of the reach of her fingertips.

Was everyone on this Realm tall and hero-y? Was that why everything was kept out of the way of the vertically challenged?

She stretched forward again, this time on her tiptoes. If she could just catch the edge of the book…

“Do you require assistance, Lady Darcy?”

Now a lot of people on Asgard called her ‘Lady Darcy’ on account of her and Thor being bros.

No one quite said it like this, though – as if the guy with that clipped accent was indulging  _her_ with the title.

She turned to the source of the voice, then froze, one arm still suspended in the air towards the bookshelf.

A pair of bright green eyes, perpetually amused, stared back at her.

Tall, lanky frame.

Dark hair and a know-it-all smirk.

Darcy scrunched her face. “Ugh, it’s you!”

She hiked up her gown slightly and stepped down from the stool, ignoring his offered hand.

“Now, now,” Loki crooned, his eyes making a slow perusal of her body that she refused to squirm over. “Is that how you greet a god?”

“Sorry, man. Hallmark doesn’t make a ‘How’ve You Been Since the Last Time You Tried to Subjugate My Entire Planet’ card.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Scuba diving,” she answered, drily. “Obviously, I’m trying to read some books. Specifically, that one on that high shelf.”

Loki’s gaze followed her pointed finger.

“Well?” Darcy gestured to the books on the top shelves impatiently.

“Ask nicely,” Loki demanded, and crossed his arms over his chest. He tilted his head towards her as if to listen closer.

Darcy rolled her eyes and said flatly, “Please, Loki and your ridiculously long legs, please get that red book off the shelf for me. I would be ever so grateful.”

He shrugged, unaffected by her sarcasm and pulled the dusty tome from its place.

Before she could get it back, he turned slightly keeping it out of her reach, and read the front cover.

“Magic? Why do  _you_ need to know magic, pretty mortal?”

Darcy determinedly ignored the ‘pretty’ part of his question.

“Maybe I wanna take over a planet, too. It’ll be called Hello Kitty World and we’ll all have cake for breakfast, the non-use of your turn signal is punishable by death, and – ” this time she looked  _him_  up and down, “Everyone signs an agreement that green is the worst color of the rainbow.”

Loki scowled at her. “If that is supposed to be a slight upon my garments – “

“It was.”

“-Then I must disappoint you by telling you that it doesn’t affect me.”

“Sure, buddy.” Darcy pulled out some other books that looked relevant from the shelf in front of her. She had no idea what  _“Fjölkyngi”_ could be but the etching on the leather looked magical enough. “Anyways, I’m trying to learn magic because I saw this kid in the courtyard making cool birds and stuff out of thin air. Could win a few bar bets back on Earth with that one.”

Loki burst out laughing. “A child’s trick! You come to the greatest library in the Nine Realms for a child’s trick?”

Darcy frowned, waving her hand through the air where dust had been kicked up. Then she regarded Loki with interest. “If it’s so easy, why don’t you teach me?”

“Why should I impart my knowledge of magic craft upon a - a Midgardian girl?”

“Because I’m asking sweetly, and I look so damn fetching?” She raised one brow and gestured to the shimmering purple Asgardian gown that fit her like a glove in certain strategic places and flowed like water over others.

If she wasn’t mistaken, the God of Mischief had a little flush going on his pale cheeks.

Darcy smiled and cheerily continued. “Well, if you won’t teach me, I’ll just have to get someone better than you.”

He scoffed, tearing his eyes away.

“I’ll ask Fandral,” she finished, pulling the red book from his grip and adding to the little collection in her arms.

“ _Fandral?!_ ” he repeated. “He could not teach a chicken to produce eggs and you want him to teach you magic?! You will not learn anything from Fandral other than how to knock another thick-headed warrior off a stinking horse.”

“But if you won’t teach me, maybe he will.” Darcy feigned casualness and straightened the front of her dress. “And he  _did_ ask me to dance with him several times at the feast last night, so I know he already likes me.”

“Fine. I will teach you – ”

“Yes!” She beamed, feeling pretty proud of herself.

“But put back these books – ” He took two thin ones from her arms and slid them back on the shelves. “And just keep these ones. The rest is cleverness and artistry, which I suppose I will now have to teach you.”

“Cool. So do you guys do late fees, or whatever? ‘Cause the only things I have on me are an old Starkphone and a stick of gum.”

Loki waved (literally waved, with a sweeping gesture of his hand) away her concerns. “All of these are technically mine, Lady Darcy Lewis.”

Darcy let out a low whistle. “Niiice.”

Darcy walked beside him as they made their way out of the library. After a bit, he reached over and took the books from her arms and held them for her.

She pressed her lips together to stop her little gleeful smile from emerging.

The way he was side-eyeing her let her know that he saw it anyways.

Huffing out a breath, Loki slowed his stride to match hers and offered her his arm. She took it, resting her hand on the soft leather of his fancy coat, and stepped just a little bit closer him.

 

“…Do you really not like the green?”

“Loki, the green is fine!”


	15. Bucky x Darcy, Bad at Dating Themed, G

Bad at Dating Themed, #3, “We’re both meant to be going on blind dates with other people but we sat down at the wrong table and got our hopes up”

* * *

 

Culture, history, technology.

Bucky knew he’d have a lot to catch up on once he got out of cryo for good, but he didn’t expect to be so confused by something as simple as food. The menu in front of him was…confusing, to say the least.

Everything  _sounded_ like something he’d eat but then it was followed by something else that hardly sounded like food at all.

Salmon he understood, but what were “yuzu spheres”?

The pork belly sounded normal, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what exactly black truffle foam was.

All in all, he was extremely uncomfortable and not just because Steve and Nat had wrangled him out of his comfortable sweaters and jeans and into a stiff dress shirt and slacks.

Sam told him that it was time he tried socializing more.

He disagreed. Everyone he cared to talk to (and even some he didn’t) were already at the facility. When he told Steve this, he was given a Look.

Steve told Sam, Sam became “concerned”, and now he’d agreed to a blind date just to get everyone off his back.

Suddenly someone slid into the chair across from him in a blur of brown, wavy, hair and lips as red as her dress.

“Sorry sorry sorry!” she babbled, still turned away from him to drape her jacket over the back of her chair. “My Uber driver got lost if you can believe it, like GPS is a thing, dude, figure it out. Five stars my a – “ then two things happened at once that made his heart rate rocket.

The first was that she finally turned to look at him, freezing him in place with two huge blue eyes.

The second was that he got a look at  _her._ She was gorgeous with her cheeks still pinked from the cold outside and her dark hair framing her face.

“Oh. Oh, wow. So I guess I owe Helen  _all_  of the margaritas for this.” She blinked back at him owlishly and bit her lip. “I didn’t realize that the James she was setting me up with was James Barnes.”

And with that his hope flattened like a pricked balloon. So she knew who she was. He was hoping to ease his date into that.

“I just go by Bucky,” he told her.

“Oh, cool. Nice to meet you, Bucky.” She held her out her hand, and he shook it, careful not to knock over the numerous delicate-looking glasses on their table.

When she skimmed the menu, she grimaced.

“Let’s order the Spiced Carrot Soup with Parmesan Spoons. There’s a surprising dearth of edible flatware in this country, don’t you think?” she asked. Her playful smile made him think that maybe she gently mocking the fancy menu, and he was put at ease a little.

“Sure,” he answered. “Sounds good.”

She leaned across the table, and conspiratorially crooked a finger at him.

He angled forward to follow, catching the soft scent of her flowery perfume.

“So, Bucky. Is it true?” she stage-whispered.

“Is what true?” Any number of terrible, bloody, violent things he’d done in the past – hell, in the past  _month_  flipped through his mind.

“Were you the one who messed with Sam’s phone after he ate all your candy?”

He burst out laughing in sheer relief and she joined him. “Yeah, yeah it’s true.”

“Holy crap, dude!” She smiled wide and pleased and he couldn’t help but do the same. “And here I thought you and Steve were gonna be old relics for forever but now you’re telling me that you learned how to set Sam’s ringtone to  _Free Bird?!_  I heard that thing went off in a meeting! I would’ve paid to have been there!”

“I had a lot of incentive. I wrote my name on that bag of candy an’ everythin’. It was  _spoken for_.”

She hummed in understanding. “I know what you mean. In college, we had a shared fridge and there I was writing ‘Darcy’ on everything –”

“’Darcy’?” He blinked. “Why ‘Darcy’?”

“Because that’s my name?” she answered, drawing out the last word suspiciously.

“…Please tell me that that‘s somehow short for Amelia.”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Um. No. It’s just Darcy, why – Oh. Oh, no –“

“Yeah. I’m sorry, Darcy, but – but I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to meet an Amelia?”

Before he could apologize (and shit, did he want to apologize – because he really  _was_ having a great time and he didn’t want her to leave his table for some chump), she shot up from her seat.

“Well, this has been kind of embarrassing. I guess I’ve left some other person hanging?” She rolled her eyes sheepishly. “Ugh, this is so me.”

“I’m sorry,” he choked out, rising from his seat just as she was flagging down a waiter.

“No, no, please it’s fine,” she said, and asked the waiter if there was a ‘James’ waiting for a blind date.

She took her jacket and purse and left so quickly he could almost be convinced that he’d imagined her. He was sullenly wondering if he should call it a night too, when the doors to the restaurant opened.

A woman with a blonde ponytail walked up to his table.

“Bucky?” she asked, smiling. “I’m Amelia. I’m so sorry I’m late!”

 

* * *

 

Darcy followed the waiter to the back of the restaurant giving Bucky a little wave and a tight smile as she went.

When she caught sight of the pretty blonde lady who approached his table, she determinedly turned around and refused to look back.

The waiter led her to her  _actual_ date, who had been waiting patiently for her this whole time.

(“Please, call me Jimmy. Only the IRS calls me James!” he said, then chortled at his own joke.)

They were sat on the other side of the wraparound bar for which Darcy was immensely grateful. Even she knew that it was tacky to be sending over longing glances to some other guy while on a date with another.

But it was difficult not to think of Bucky Barnes and his grey-blue eyes and the way he was looking at her over the candlelight. Or how, when she surprised a laugh out of him, his whole face lit up.

Jimmy was nice. He was kind. He had two basset hounds and two degrees in biochemical engineering and liked to relax by hiking and watching old episodes of  _The Wire_.

But he’d also never punched a neo-Nazi in the face so hard that the news networks had to blur it out and never changed Sam’s ringtone to  _Free Bird_ because Sam ate the last of his Reese’s Pieces. When he spoke, there was no slight Brooklyn drawl.

Towards the end of their meal, their waiter came over to ask if they wanted dessert and before Jimmy could say anything, Darcy turned it down. She forced a little smile and ignoring that fact that a great portion of her dinner was some kind of foam, told Jimmy that she was full and tired and had a long day at work the next day.

Jimmy nodded good-naturedly and they split the bill. He offered to drive her back to the facility but she just felt like being alone so she declined.

The night was over and Darcy was both relieved and sad.

When she exited the restaurant, Bucky was standing on the sidewalk, his hands shoved into the pockets of his leather jacket.

She saw him flick a glance behind her and when he saw that she was alone his shoulders relaxed slightly. Still, he looked rather twitchy, like he was about to bolt any second.

She couldn’t have that.

“Hey,” she said, as casually as she could muster. She approached him, heels clicking on the pavement.

“Hi, Darcy. How was your date?”

“Fine. Nice. He was sweet,” Darcy answered, and fidgeted with the strap of her purse. “But we didn’t really have chemistry. How about you? Does Amelia make it to the second round?”

Bucky quirked a smile at her. “She was sweet. But we didn’t really have chemistry.”

She grinned.

He grinned back, and a whole kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight in her stomach.

“Were you…waiting for me?”

“Might’ve been.” He paused to peer at her for a second. “Yes.”

Darcy tilted her head. “Bucky, what would you have done if my date had gone  _well_?”

He ducked his head a little, dark strands of hair covering his face. When he looked back up at her it was with a tiny nervous smile.

“Honestly? I would’ve just gone back to the facility to eat an entire pizza by myself while watching  _Die Hard_.”

She nodded and considered for a moment. “You know what? You better order two pizzas, that sounds amazing.”

Bucky beamed at her, and led her to his car.

“But don’t get too comfy,” she warned, as he unlocked it with a beep. “Next time, I wanna go dancing. I know you know how, I saw the Smithsonian exhibition just like everyone else!”

He held open his car door for her and even under the low lights of the parking lot, she could see the quick wink he sent her.

“Doll, it’s a date.”


End file.
